


Cannibal

by blurrycopaface, hexada (blurrycopaface)



Category: Ghostemane (Musician), Lil Peep (Musician) RPF, Schema Posse
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Gen, Goretober, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, Los Angeles, Necrophilia, Occult, Schema Posse - Freeform, Underground Rap, Violent Sex, Vomiting, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrycopaface/pseuds/blurrycopaface, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrycopaface/pseuds/hexada
Summary: Love is a plagueBut I’m dying and taking you with me to the unknown
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Cannibal

**Author's Note:**

> Had this idea when listening to Ghostemane's _Hades_.  
> I love werewolf stories and had a lot of fun writing this. Was going to be posted on Halloween for Goretober, but that didn't happen, so Happy (late) Halloween.  
> Rest in peace Gus and also congrats to Eric on his 8th album release.  
> 

—-

**_Oct 28th_ **

I ran as fast as I could through the alleyways, sleeked with rain on cold concrete, unusual for a night in Los Angeles. My foot slipped on a curb as I tried to step up onto the sidewalk.

“ _Fuck_.” Was a hiss reserved only for my own ears, I landed on my knee and gouged the skin there, tearing part of my black jeans open in the process. I rose and kept my urgent pace anyway, ignoring the dull throb.

Withdrawing a lighter from a trench coat pocket, I lit a rolled cigarette, sucking in the sweet acrid burn of smoke. Rounding a corner of a particularly shady looking outcrop of bars and restaurants, there was a neon sign blinking, “1720 Warehouse” in blues and pinks that I made my way towards.

Catching my breath for a moment on suffocating smoke, I leaned against a broken palette underneath the bar sign, soggy in the rain, it squelched under my weight.

My hand drifted to an inner coat pocket with a small ziplock baggie in it and groped tightly, making sure the need for me being late to the show was still for good reason. I sighed, arms burning and itching like a billion little bug bites screaming from my own skin. I was hungry for the fix.

A door banged open from the venue, making me start suddenly and almost drop my smoke.

“Dude, you _ready_?” It was a buddy of mine, working on sound for the night. He was large and loud, intimidating at times, and a perfect person to have on your side. 

I nodded to him, letting him know I was listening, then quickly stubbed the cigarette on the pallet I leaned on. I followed him into the dark opening of the bar, door slamming behind us to plunge us both into darkness. 

“You’re fucking late.” He grumbled and I said, “Well I’m here now, okay?”

He didn’t ask me where I had been, thankfully. I think he knew not to.

The bar was stuffy and crowded already, the thrum of bass and squeal of vocals cutting their way into my brain cavity like an unwanted radio feed. There were already people who had played for the night and I knew it would be only a few songs away until it was time to go onstage myself.

I abandoned my befuddled sound man and made my way back stage pointedly, but not before grabbing a whiskey from a bandmate of mine. By bandmate I mean technician, I was a one man show and had been for years. That’s the best way I operated - self driven with only me myself and I to make career decisions with. I wrote my own shit, produced my own shit, did my own shit. But I wasn’t opposed to anyone helping me out, only a fool would turn down someone’s helping hand. Everyone knew that a wolf hunted better in a pack.

I got a few claps on the back and chest bumps before going on stage, making sure to give a quick thumbs up to the team to let them know it was go time.

It was good, it always was. The room jumping and pumping fists to your beats. Kids starting pits and throwing themselves at each other, while belting out your raps. It was fucking fun, and never got old, much better than going into a room where no one gave a shit or even knew who the fuck you were. I forgot about the thrum in my knee and let it bleed all through my black jeans, adding to my onstage character, I decided.

A bunch of young kids kept coming up, some with mullets and others sporting mohawks, diving off from the lip of the set again before the security could really get a hand on them.

Some other local rappers came onstage and spit with me, I had to take my coat off because of the lack of clean, cold air.

I opened water bottles over the kids' heads and my own, accidentally busting my lip on my own mic at some point too. It wasn’t the craziest my shows could get and I think that was due to the fact I felt the weight of the baggie in my snapped shut pocket, whispering distractingly to me the promise of sweet liquid injection. I wanted to save myself for the real show.

I was thanking the crowd and striding off, sweat pouring from my body, soaking the trenchcoat I still had tied around my waist purely for the fact it contained such a valuable item to me.

“Hey, Ghoste.” Someone hollered and I looked to see Zinny, a roommate and my ride home for the night, beckoning to me.

“You good man? You looked distracted tonight.”

I gulped down some water and shrugged him off. “Mind is just elsewhere.” We began to walk through the backing of the bar, pushing through the crowd, people bid me goodnight and yelled they loved me. I stopped twice to shake a hand and sign something, but not in the mental capacity to really stay and chit chat.

  
  
  


“You sure you are okay Eric?”

Zinny asked me again as we made our way back outside in the cold dark atmosphere.

I gulped down the air like a drug, stretching my fingers and blinking at the sky in pure elation from being outside once again.

I avoided his gaze and looked at the moon, Sirius burned brightly nearby which felt comforting.

“Full moon soon.” I murmured.

Zinny just grunted, seeming annoyed by my lack of conversation. “You just tell me if this gets to be too much for you okay man? Don’t want you ending up like some of our friends.”

I walked with him back down the other direction of the alley, towards his parked car. My hand obsessively grabbed at my inner pocket again, crinkling the bag gently.

I thought I had evaded any further questioning from him when we sunk into Zinny’s beat up blue Toyota, but he sighed deeply and I figured what he would say next.

“I know it’s been a year for you, man. And I know this is going to be a hard Halloween too.”

I looked outside again, still drenched in rapidly chilling sweat, rubbing my face in my hand and trying to find Sirius in the sky once again. “Yeah.” Is all I could respond with at the time. “You can _fucking_ say that.”

  
  
  


I could not wait to be at the house. Out of Zinny’s car I bolted like a rabbit, up the concrete steps of the Pasadena suburban crib.

I felt sort of bad for giving Zinny such a cold disposition, he really wasn't a bad guy in the slightest, in fact he’d been a great support over the years since moving to California. We’d been roommates for a long time and he never gave me any shit really. It was Randol and Armando that were more obnoxious, the two newest cave mates. Living in an ever rotating house situation was stressful, and I missed the days when the original group of guys all lived here. Although I was also glad that they weren’t still in this dump.

I ran into the two of them in the kitchen, both hunched over the stove top doing or making god knows what.

“ _Ghostemaaaaaane.”_ Randol drawled to me unpleasantly, waving as I tried to run past them and straight up the stairs. 

“How’d the show go bro?!” I heard Armando yelling, grabbing for my arm, but I tried to ignore them both, shouting back something like, “Good enough.” Trying to make it clear I did _not_ want to hang and talk to them.

  
  
  


My room was small, an attic space that once served as mere storage when the house was first built, it had slanted ceilings and no bathroom with high walls that were crusted with dirt and a layer of possible mildew. The light filtered in through frosted vintage glass windows, one of which was cracked severely and I duct taped shut, but still leaked cold or hot air through depending on the weather. 

Zinny offered to move me into a larger shared room with some of the other guys but I politely declined, knowing that I would much rather take my segregation in a small stuffy attic over having to hear Randol eat bags of doritos all day and play Xbox loudly or deal with tripping over Armando’s empty Coke cans he left littered everywhere. My style didn’t really go with them, I needed my dark and my quiet. 

I had a bed mat on the floor, topped with a thick quilt made by my mother. Next to the bed I kept a pile of my books, journals, and some arcanic tools used for magick. Usual things. Or maybe not, depending who you talk to.

I stripped my jeans off, tossing them aside to wash the blood off later, then more carefully took my coat from my waist to fold onto a chair. I lit the sage I had on the window sill, not bothering to actually cleanse the space, but wanting it’s properties nonetheless.

I sighed a full breath, possibly the first one of the evening and turned to the baggie in my pocket.

I found a small box I had hidden behind some equipment for studio work. Taking my spoon and cotton balls, already started balling my fist up to ready myself.

This stuff was good quality, I could tell, and I really only trusted the people my friends had gone to when they were alive or still around. I didn’t want to fuck with sub par drugs. If I was going to shoot up; it would have to be the good stuff.

Ice through my veins, just enough to relax me.

I hummed in bliss, feeling like I was tasting silver, a sensation I could only describe as icey cool blue seeping into my veins and filling up my mouth with melted led metals. Delicious.

It made my eyes droop, my mouth water and I instantly relaxed like I was made of gelatinous goo.

 _Finally_. I was waiting for two days to hit up a guy in downtown Pasadena again and now my body finally ceased it’s burning ache.

My pain turned to a small patter of rain instead of a thrumming pulse like thunder.

I sighed and succumbed to laying back, slipping in and out of a daze on my bed, staring at the ceiling and the way the spiders had so intricately constructed their webbings across the beams of the ceiling. They were considerate to ignore my four crystals I had at each corner of the room.

This place didn’t feel as homey as it once did, mostly due to the fact that Gus was no longer here. I missed him so much. There wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t missing him, who knows how many days, or years it would take for me to not pray on bringing him back.

I thought I dreamt briefly of silver moons, shifting and shivering behind and over my closed eyelids like little toe nails, but then I opened my eyes and groaned.

I was starving.

It was quite the task to make one’s way much of anywhere while strung out, but I was an expert at this point at functioning in the dysfunctional. Using my elbows, I rolled myself sideways and onto my hands and knees, finding purchase with my legs before starting the slow descent down the narrow stairs.

I was hoping that the roommates were not still in the kitchen, and thank Gods they were not. I saw Randol in his dark room, the glow of the computer monitor illuminating his sunken looking face.

“Randol, did you eat those vegan nuggets I bought?” I didn’t hear his full response, but he shifted his headphones on his head so he couldn’t hear me fully, continuing his fixation on whatever videogame he had been playing as of late. “Motherfucker.” I hissed, shaking hair into my face.

I ate some packaged ramen instead.

No one ever fucking slept in this house, maybe except for Zinny, or Zinny’s dog, Fenrir. 

I certainly didn’t sleep without assistance.

So I laid there again, atop my quilted blanket and let my mind talk to me as I watched the spiders busy themselves with web weaving and web maintenance.

The pounding in my head finally drilled me into a heavy forced sort of passing out, not really sleeping, but more like sedation. I didn’t dream.

—

**_Oct 29th_ **

I woke up with a blazing headache, rolling over to reach for my mason jar of tepid water. As I gulped it down I searched for a small pipe in my sack of items. I smoked some herb, helping with the headache, but not helping with the thirst and so eventually I forced myself to rise.

Zinny was in the kitchen, I rubbed my eyes to try and wake myself up more as he gestured to me a hello.

He offered me some coffee and I grunted a thanks before sitting myself at the sunken kitchen chair.

“Big show tonight too, huh? And then a couple days off.” Zinny grins at me, thumbing up. I nodded.

“You don’t got a ride from me tonight, and you look beat, you sure you alright?”

I waved my hand as I drank the bitter coffee, averting his gaze. My patience was as thin as paper when I was sober.

“Don’t worry, Zin, I’ll get it figured out somehow.”

I used twice as much as I had the previous night, coupled with some powdered stuff I had too, that’s what I meant by ‘figured out somehow’. It sure did the trick.

  
  


The show was explosive.

I felt like I was sailing: the crowd was an ocean of multi colored monochrome shirts and dark hair, thrashing and pulling and pushing around the stage that was my ship.

My body felt bruised all over and my throat was scratched raw from screaming and singing so loudly.

Pretty sure some kid had his nose broken in the pit, smearing bright blood all around him.

My entire team was impressed,

If only that level of energy had been completely self induced.

I felt great, humming with drugs and adrenaline and sweat, I stayed longer this time to talk with people and take photos after the performance. My heart was still racing like a rabbit, threatening to speed ahead of my own reserves, I chased it too eagerly for my own good.

I drank some Grey Goose, one of my favorites and revelled in the moment of the fact that I was _powerful._

But as I called a ride and began to leave the venue, I felt the edges of my mind start to finally creep back into sobriety. It was a painful reality as I wobbly got into the car.

Everything started caving in all too quickly, suddenly I felt myself sinking fast into a vast bleek sadness that was unfortunate in its familiarity. I was shivering and felt like I may barf by the time I got back up into my room. 

The guys waved to me but I barely registered it, I was so worn down. I wanted not to feel anything right then, not the rising nausea, or the obvious scream of exhaustion my body wailed out to me, just wanted to numb myself all over again. 

But I didn’t even have the energy to dope myself up when I walked through the door, I just collapsed on my bed, spent from using the resources of energy that was only granted to me by the drugs I used.

Nothing much can reach you when you are already so deep into the abyss. It had been a while now that I was pushing this body far too far, and I knew this, but I didn’t know how else to keep up with the pace that life demanded from me. I laid in bed, letting every thought and anxiety swirl around and around inside my brain cavity until it drained out of me like a plug being pulled in a bathtub, spilling into the black night sky in a rush of dirty room temperature water.

—-

**_Oct 31_ **

_Why the fuck was it raining so much lately?_

It was seriously unusual for SoCal. I woke up with heavy wet eyes, like I had been crying and I touched my face surprisedly. _Had I been dreaming?_ I hadn’t remembered my dreams for who knows how long.

I felt like something was in the air the moment I rose, but couldn’t place it. The past couple days had blended together because I had slept and doped up so much of the time inside my room, listening to the rain while trying to nurse my ongoing headache and desire to not be present in myself. 

I tried to rest, only to be too restless to even do so.

“Happy Halloween!” Armando shouted into my room at about noon and that’s when it clicked.

Oh yeah, _Halloween_.

I groaned.

This was going to be a hard night.

I smoked a cigarette out back and watched Zinny’s dog, Fenrir dig at some muddy dirt. Sighing I held a photograph in my free hand, blowing smoke into the air as I watched the moon, visible now even though it was still light out.

“I miss you man.”

I looked at the photo, one I kept in my wallet, of my deceased friend, Gus, who’s birthday would be tonight, exactly after midnight on Halloween.

I felt like everything sort of fell apart after he died. We had already been doing our own things by that time, but I was yet to really drag myself out of my own pit. Maybe he wasn’t all there either though.

I didn’t really have enough money for a new place and most of my funds were going directly to my drug habit, keeping me in this arbitrary loop of incessant need to give myself artificial energy to just stay afloat and play shows, but not actually helping me to move on from this place or these habits.

Gus helped keep things feeling alive and fun. He was a tether for me to stay a little more grounded. And I knew the real inspiration would always have to come from inside, I knew that and I tried to search for it, but these days I felt so empty.

I snubbed the cigarette absentmindedly out onto my arm, then Fenrir came over to say hello, wagging his grey tail and lifting his big head up towards me. I whistled at him, I was always good with animals, they seemed to understand without a need for words.

“You’re a good boy.”

I tried to smile but couldn’t find it. I listened to the pattering rain on the awning above my head for a moment while stroking his silvery head.

“Do you think I’m a good boy too?”

  
  
  
  


Back up into my room I searched for more of my fix. But I couldn’t find any, I rummaged my pack, tore back my covers, shaking everything in my room loose, but it seemed I had used my last bit up.

I sank to my knees, feeling heedlessly needy. “Fuck, fuck fuck.” I hissed over and over again, head burning with an already horrible withdrawal. I ran my hands over my face harshly, clenching my eyes shut.

I texted a buddy of mine, more of a business acquaintance really, someone who knew the best plugs in LA for the best prices. My hands shook as I typed the message, driven by franticity of want.

I shut my phone and waited for a response.

I hated this, hated that I relied on this so much. 

How did I even let myself get to this place? I was ending up just like my own fucked up father. 

I wished I could have cried for myself just then, but even that was unbearable. 

I threw some books across the room instead, hitting the wall with a rather pathetic thud. 

I dug my nails into my arms and wished they were needles. 

I wrapped myself up into the sheets and hoped I would suffocate. 

The eating feeling of needing drugs was disgusting to me, I disgusted myself. I felt emptier than usual without some substance giving me the feeling of being human, of being alive still.

I pleaded for it to stop.

I _needed_ it to stop.

I’m not sure how long I laid there in a limbo, just waiting, everything burning with a pulsing tired anxiety. 

Finally I heard back from the plug, he explained he was really strapped for tonight, it being Halloween and all, and it would have to wait until tomorrow.

I hissed. There was no way I could make it to tomorrow. This night was drowning me already.

I bit my lip hard and wrestled with the ideas of where and how else I could get what I needed.

  
  
  


The inside of the 7/11 was harshly lit and smelled like bleach, my pants felt heavy, weighed down by something hidden inside one of my pockets, I kept pulling them up. 

I settled on buying some over the counter meds that I knew when dosed correctly, would provide a decent high. I have no idea why the checker person sold it to me, I probably looked so strung out with my unkempt brown hair and buggy sleepless blue eyes.

“Happy Halloween.” They replied unceremoniously. I ignored them and left swiftly with my paraphilia.

  
  
  


The night outside was cold and damp, up near Devil’s Gate underneath the bridge, I sat on the dune brush with the gun in my hand, now out of the pocket of my pants.

Already taken most of the meds I purchased, it sadly served to do nothing but further the depression and ache I already was concreted into.

It did gently numb the edges of my brain enough to convince myself I wasn't completely sober, however and yet I still wanted and needed _something._

Sighing, I pressed the trigger of my firearm gently, aiming the weapon towards myself.

_Would I actually..?_

I had entertained the notion many times in my life but I figured I would never be able to fully commit to the act.

I slipped the muzzle past my lips, anyway, entertaining the idea, running my tongue along the cool metal, biting into it slightly.

It was stupid. I knew that.

Sometimes I just needed to think hard enough about pulling the trigger, write and sing graphically enough about blowing my brains out and that satisfied me. I groaned and looked around me.

The surrounding area was underneath a small overpass, it had a river running through some bushy California slopes, leading to a giant gaping tunnel that was barred off by a gate. The mouth of the tunnel was surrounded with graffiti of all kinds.

A memory flashed in my mind of Gus and I tagging some stuff here at the tunnel walls, a few years back. It was right after we had moved in with Zinny.

Gus wanted to try and get into the tunnel so he could write a big “Goth Boi Clique” on the wall in fluorescent pink. He didn’t end up succeeding, the bars were too tight a fit for him, and we scared ourselves almost getting caught by a patrolling cop, then laughed till we couldn’t breath because we felt like rock stars.

How I missed that kid.

There was a sudden sound I heard and I glanced over to see what I thought was a woman in a long white dress, standing just on the rim of the river. I blinked a few times before confirming that, yes, there _was_ in fact a lady in white walking up to the river nearby, she walked slowly and floated almost like a ghost.

It spooked the shit out of me and I startled, dropping the gun heavily on the ground beside me with a _thud_.

I figured it was some person doing some weird magick shit on Halloween, but something about her made me uneasy, if not slightly curious too.

As I reached to scoop the gun up I looked back to double check her and was met with nothing there but empty riverside.

I shook my head, feeling enough stimulated satisfaction to start to convince myself into returning home. I had enough delusions of witches for the night.

I started to make my way back up the incline, eyes on the sky, searching for Sirius, when my footing slipped, I felt a tug and another sudden sound behind me.

I froze as a piercing howl chilled me to the bone. It sounded unlike any dog, wild or domestic I had ever heard. And it sounded close.

I gasped quietly, all instincts kicking in to propel me forward and up the hill, I grappled at the roots and rocks on the ground, pulling upward, knowing fully well I also had the gun at my disposal if I so needed it.

I almost made it to the street level, seeing the flickering street lights just a few feet up above like stars.

But suddenly I felt a yank on my leg and I yelled, foot twisting painfully as I was dragged back down the hill by some unseen force.

I stumbled, rolling over once as I crashed down at the base of the tunnel.

I tried to stand, heart pounding in my ears like when I was high, but I felt something crash into my legs to knock me to the ground again, knees scraping and reopening that scab from a few days ago.

My ribs landed against the ground, stealing me from breath for a staggering moment. I managed an inhale and turned around, pulling the gun out and aiming it towards where I thought the attacker was. “Get the _fuck_ off, I’m armed!”

Everything was dark, I saw the stark gray concrete of the Devil’s Gate and it’s squiggling worms of graffiti across its surface, my eyes desperately searching for the thing that had assaulted me.

I thought I saw a bush move beside the tunnel entrance and cocked my gun.

Next thing I knew something came barreling towards me out of the bushes, knocking me once again to the ground. I was too slow with the gun, the momentum of the attack knocking the weapon far away from me, someplace in the bushes.

The thing pinned me down, snarling and breathing hotly. I kicked at the shape as hard as I could, unable to see it fully in the dark, but it was absolutely huge and roared loudly with a sound that reverberated inside of my own chest, terrifying me so much that I froze for a moment, unable to react.

I felt pain in my leg as the thing seemed to sink fangs or claws or _something_ into me.

I screamed, battering hands against it, I felt my jacket tear under its jaws, bright red spattering out against the dirt, my vision was spinning as I felt like I was tossed in the air, everything happening so fast, I wasn’t sure what was up or down anymore before finally landing heavily on the ground again.

It seemed like I was in a horror movie, either someone was seriously mugging me while in some creepy suit for a prank, or this was a _legit_ monster attacking me.

I finally found balance again and hoisted myself up, wincing as sharp pain shot through the hurt leg, but I ran as fast as I could, forgetting the gun.

I scrambled back up the side again, wondering briefly why the thing had stopped attacking and where it was now. I forced the idea out of my head and focused on getting the fuck out of there. Finally making it back to the street I sped through the dark Pasadena streets as swiftly as I could with a slight limp.

My hands were slick against my phone, trying desperately to open it and hit the speed dial. I couldn’t, dropping it as I keeled over in pain.

“ _Fuck_.” I hissed.

I was going to die tonight, but not in the way I had planned.

I passed some trick or treaters, kids no older than 11 and they gasped at me and jumped away in shock as I barreled past with a limp.

I must have looked horrifying, covered in blood and dirt, jacket torn to shreds. I wonder if they thought it was a costume.

I finally made it home, banging the front door open under my key. I didn’t see anyone up, and didn’t call out either, too intent on reaching the bathroom so I could assess my wounds.

As I climbed the steps I felt myself swaying, my mouth was foaming like some rabid animal, dripping saliva down my own chin and I stopped to heave up dark vomit on the stairs. 

Probably from the pain and shock.

“Fuck.” I kept chanting, finally getting to my door and stumbling through it.

I thought of calling out to Zinny, but all I knew was that there had to be drugs somewhere in the house that would help me.

I shakily gulped down pills without liquid that were graciously strewn about on the mantle, probably left over from something Randol was using. I normally never take someone’s stash, but I figured he would understand. Groaning as I then realized I would need to go back down stairs to go to the restroom.

I stripped my clothing off, trying to see how severe all the injuries were and made my way shakily past my own vomit again.

I stumbled through the kitchen, passing the sink that had a mirror above it.

I looked into it at my own image, gasping in horror.

My left shoulder was torn open, the yellowy sinew of flesh falling out of a huge red gash. I thought I saw bone underneath it all and nearly puked again from the sight. My leg had 3 deep gashes in it, oozing but thankfully starting to scab over already.

I wobbled my way into the corner of the kitchen, searching for any supplies I could use. I knew this house was full of alcoholic drug users, there was something I could find benefit in.

I actually did try to call out to the guys in the house but my voice seemed caught - only scratching out a strangled gurgle. I opened a cabinet I knew would have hard liquor. Taking a long swig and then poured it over my leg, spattering against the kitchen floor. I whined and then splashed it on my arm as well. I bit my lip hard as not to scream, muffling my growling into my own bitten flesh.

Back into the bathroom, I wrapped my arm heavily in gauze and toilet paper, tightly enough to compress it down and hopefully seal the skin back to myself. I had no idea how that worked. But I hoped I would still have an arm by tomorrow. I did the same with my leg, tying some towels around them both as well.

I finally made the long trek back up to my room and groaned in utter relief, passing out from shock at some point or another as the smell of iron and alcohol filled my nostrils.

—-

**_Nov 1_ **

“You look like shit man.”

I blinked, my room swaying and shivering in my vision.

“Wh-“

I felt some pressure against my head and shut my eyes tightly, everything was so bright and moving. “Eric, what the _fuck_ happened?”

I opened my eyes again.

Zinny was above me, staring into my face with a look of concern.

I tried to talk but just croaked something inaudible out instead.

He shook his head, seeming to understand I couldn’t communicate well.

“Looks like a crazy Halloween party man, look at what you did with your jacket!” He tugged on a piece of tattered fabric, caught under my leg as I haphazardly had de robbed from it last night. “Is this like a last minute costume you made? With all this fake blood and gauze?” I groaned, wishing he would stop talking. “And you reek like hard liquor.”

He gave me one last long look before clicking his tongue and saying,

“Lemme know if you need something dude.” He clapped me on the opposite leg from my injury thank god, and I still said nothing as he left my room.

I sighed heavily, willing myself to fall back asleep but finding it impossible as I rumanated on the events of last night.

What was it that attacked me?

It was definitely an actual _thing_ and not just some hallucination from my de drugged mind playing tricks on me. I was actually hurt, that was obvious from the ache my body felt. 

But was it human? A sick person in some suit? Fooling around playing eerie wolf howls and shanking people with jagged glass? Must have been a _very_ strong person. They felt like 3.

Or could it have been something entirely different? Something less…easily explained?

I believed in the supernatural.

Even before I started to read about magick and the history of philosophy and metaphysics and the Golden Dawn, I remembered recounting to my Mother and Father how I had seen a huge hulking beast across the swamp of our Florida trailer park.

It looked like a bigfoot, and I told them this with absolute fervor. They both laughed at me, saying I was a crazy little kid. My Pop clapped me on the back and said there would come a time when I would learn the harsh reality of what was in my mind and what was real life.

I saw this figure again a week later, only this time much closer and at nighttime.

I ran home fast as I could, soaked in Florida humidity.

After then I started carrying one of my Dad’s pocket knives, out of fear.

He found me with it one day when I was home from school, he screamed about why the hell I had stolen a weapon from him. I explained it was because I kept seeing the Bigfoot in the swamps, but he backhanded me and said I would need to learn to grow up if I would ever become anything of worth in the world.

I stopped trying to think about the swamp beast, but still saw it for months after.

  
  
  


I laid in bed almost all day.

Randol at one point popped in and asked if I wanted some food.

I didn’t have an appetite. My entire body hummed with a weird feeling. Surely I should be exhausted, and I was, but I also felt like an electrical current crackling through my body. It reminded me of being high. It must be withdrawal symptoms. I would have to just wait through it.

Later that night I finally got up to go to the restroom. Making my way down the stairs, I silently thanked whoever cleaned the mess off the wall I made, and went into the bathroom.

I was terrified to unwrap myself, knowing the carnage that lay below. With trembling hands I peeled the layers of gauze and toilet paper back from my arm, only to be speechless at the sight I saw: my skin was a bright pink where the stripes of gore was only a few hours ago. It was beginning to fuse back, even seeming to _grow_ back.

“What the fucking hell?”

There was no way this happened just within a day. Maybe I was tripping last night and I just _thought_ I saw all those open wounds. But that pain, my heart beat racing, that was all real.

I checked my leg and there too, it already appeared to be healing and scarring over.

There was no possible way this all was healing so fast.

My stomach growled loudly and I suddenly realized I was starving, not having eaten in nearly 48 hours.

Meeting the other guys in the living room, I ate heartily, a little bit of everything the roommates had ordered.

“Damn Eric, what’s got you all hungry all’a sudden?” Randol asked, grinning at me accusingly.

“You havin’ a baby or somethin’?” Armando chided through a mouthful of something.

I scowled at them both and stayed quiet.

“You’re right he’s even, like, more quiet than normal.” One of them remarked, making them both laugh.

“Shut the hell up, the both of you.” I warned.

And they were after that.

Zinny gave me a funny look but left me alone too.

  
  
  


I retreated to my room soon after and fought the electrical crackle under my skin that only seemed to be increasing.

I thought maybe it _was_ the drugs. Like this was some weird signal my body was purging the shit. My plug finally texted me later that night, I had kind of forgotten and he said we could meet up at a park in Altadena at the foot of Lake.

I told him yes, wanting any excuse to get out of the house and calm this feeling in myself. I must need drugs, that was always the answer. _Right_?

  
  
  


Outside helped. Air. And cold. And night time. 

The plug seemed off, he mentioned how his girlfriend was paranoid about some dog attacks happening in the area, which seemed odd to me since dogs attacking people in the city was very uncommon, but as I left, I couldn’t help but think about my own experience last night.

  
  
  


I got everything ready in my room, tying my arm off, clenching my fist, drawing the liquid, I was so ready, at least I should have been, but when I went to inject myself I froze, feeling this odd creeping tingle in the back of my head, like little fingernails digging into the base of my skull that told me not to do it.

I tried to ignore it and pressed the needle tip against my skin. I gasped in shock. The needle did not pierce my skin, instead, it broke against the surface of it.

I ogled at myself, perplexed as to how the needle had snapped so easily. I tried again, figuring it was oddly faulty, and yet it snapped again against the surface of my veins, not so much as even puncturing me.

I decided to try and go to bed to sleep off all the weird feelings. At least my constant headaches were starting to go away.

But the crackle was only getting worse.

I felt hungry all the time, and ate most of everything the other guy’s brought home.

I started wondering if I really needed help. Maybe I should go to the ER. I felt like I had a fever most of the time.

The only thing that sounded good was loud, out, fun. Stimulation.

I had one day until my next show in Hollywood, but I couldn’t wait until then.

So I decided to party.

\---

**_Nov 5th_ **

The club wasn’t the best in the area, amenable at the most, but it did the trick. 

It was musky inside, smelling of old wood and even older alcohol.

There were plenty of half naked bodies writhing around in the dark space between thrumming music.

I let my own body become one with sound, twisting and turning and thrashing to the beat, everything my body had wanted over the past few days - an escape. It reminded me of being a kid and first going to metal and hip hop shows. It had been some time since I was the one in the crowd and not on the stage. It was a nice change.

I forgot how long I was there for, just swaying and moving and forgetting all things, but a woman at some point approached me.

She had dark red hair, boldly matching her red lipstick color. I eyed her, scanning her body which was scantily clad in black leather. I felt myself throb, intoxicated by feeling.

I drew near to her, writhing around her, eyes locked on, but not yet touching her. She smiled sultry, moving hips in a sexual manner. She wrapped strands of my newly silver hair around her finger and pursed her lips.

I leaned into her and asked if she wanted to go somewhere. She nods and takes me by the hand.

I pressed her against the side of the bar, a well secluded spot where the music was horribly loud, so much so it almost hurt one’s head.

I didn’t care, I figured she didn’t either.

I tore her black track jacket off, admiring her few tattoos before dipping my head down to shove my tongue through her teeth. She grabbed at my crotch and I humped against her.

I swore I could smell her sex from here.

I felt up her full chest, gently wrapped my hand around her throat, threatening to squeeze but not acting upon it.

Slipping black lace panties down between her legs, I lapped at her creamy white inner thighs.

I felt myself drooling more, felt it dripping down my own neck. I ignored it and made my way up her skirt until my mouth found soft wetness.

The smell drove me mad, making me groan low and guttural in my throat. I began to eat her, salivating enough to make my own mouth just as wet as her pussy.

Her fingers tangled in my hair again, I felt her nails scratch me, felt the terribly loud music throb in my skull. God it was so loud, how did that not hurt her ears? I wanted to just fuck and then get somewhere not as loud.

But I was enjoy eating her out so much, licking furiously as her folds, kissing and grazing my teeth against her sex.

I felt a harsh pull on my hair and I growled deeply again, planting my hands firmly against her thighs to keep her legs spread and against the bar wall.

I felt high. So much higher than with drugs, which was bizarre, I certainly didn’t remember taking anything, and yet I was slipping in and out of reality as I felt the woman’s juices dripping down my neck. I bit into her, slurping and groaning, eating and swallowing like mad, biting into her thighs, sucking down all the warm goo that smeared across my face.

She was pulling and scrambling at my face and hair now, but I held her easily down, keeping her in place while I had my way, eyes only barely open as I couldn’t see much under her tight skirt anyway.

Everything felt hot and red and wet and sticky. So sticky. Why was her cum so tacky and salty? She tasted so different from other women, but maybe it had just been too long for me since the last girl.

It was loud, and I ignored the incessant pulling at my hair from her, it becoming more of a nuisance as I continued to devour her, diving my tongue deep in to scoop out all I could.

I felt so satisfied, just swallowing all her tastes, feeling her heat against me, smelling her cum and another sharp sweetness I couldn’t quiet place.

I felt her movements stilling and figured that maybe she had orgasmed, which was a bit early, but I was between her legs for a good long while and utterly flattered my tongue was so skilled, so I finally drew my face away from her, licking my lips slowly and opening my eyes to look up to her.

The woman’s face was pale, shocked and frozen looking in a mid moan or gasp of some sort. She wasn’t moving much and I thought for a moment that she had passed out from intoxication.

“Hey.”

I tried to say, but couldn’t even hear myself over the music.

“Hey!” I tried again, louder, shaking her arm and still she didn’t move from her frozen state.

I rose up away from her, to see her better and that’s when my hands left her spread thighs. She began to slightly slip down the wall when I brought my hands away from her and as I went to try and hold her in place that’s when I noticed all the red.

Red. Red _everywhere_. Red pouring down from between her legs, under her black skirt, spattering and pooling around the floor underneath her. With shaking hands I realized that all of it was blood.

“Hey, what the _fuck—_ “

As the woman slipped down the wall more, I looked and saw between her spread legs what appeared like mangled meat, dangling and dripping from her, inner thighs weeping blood outward and down her already drenched legs.

I wretched suddenly, out of pure horror and raised my hand to my own mouth.

My face was wet, smeared with what I had only moments ago assumed was sex juices, but now realized with absolute sickening horror, was blood.

I opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue to wipe something from it with a finger, I looked at what I held and it was a small fleshy chunk of meat.

I heaved violently, turning away from the scene as quickly as I possibly could as I tried to realize what I had just done.

I ran, hands covering my mouth, through the hot crowd and through the club doors once again into the night air.

I ran and ran, continuously feeling a rising bile in my throat of hot flesh and blood.

_There’s no way._

_There is_ **_no_ ** _fucking way I just did that._

_I couldn’t have just eaten a girl’s body parts._

_There is_ **_no_ ** _possible way I could have bitten off chunks of her legs and swallowed them._

_This is fucked up._

_This is just withdrawals._

_These are sick mind tricks,_ **_none of this is real._ **

I kept telling myself all of this as I stumbled through the street, stopping as I reached a gutter and could no longer hold myself in.

I blew chunks into the street, bright red with yellow chunks, which the sight of only made me hurl even more.

_What kind of sick fucking person would do this?_

I felt like I was in third person for a moment.

Just watching someone else not me committing the act I just had. 

And again I told myself in denial that there was absolutely no fucking way that just happened.

I wiped my mouth with a still bloody hand, spit and sick smearing into the red.

_Then why not go back to the club? Just to prove it didn’t really happen?_

But I knew I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

I wanted to go home, somewhere I understood, to take a hot shower, to try and forget, to sleep.

  
  
  


I walked into the house only to be greeted with a thrumming loudness, similar to that of the club I had moments ago fled, rattling the walls and screen door as I shut it.

I turned around to see Randol and Armando with some other people crowded in the hallway and kitchen.

“Yooo!” Yelled Randol, waving a beer at me.

“Wanna drink buddy?”

My mind swam, I saw only red, and was blatantly aware of the acrid taste in my mouth, which still unfortunately tasted so good to me.

I pushed into the crowd ignoringly, a few people mumbling, “The fuck?” 

Armando gave me a shout of, “Awe, C’mon Eric!” And pushed against my arm.

I turned to him, roaring, “Shut the _fuck_ up!” over the music. I paused a moment, watching his face pale in sudden fear. “O-oh—I-“ I didn’t listen to the rest of whatever he had to say, feeling satisfied l, I pushed past the rest of them and made my way into the restroom.

The sink flushed red with rivers of blood as I washed my hands and face, shaking violently against the ceramic of the sink. I gripped the sides of them in desperation of sanity.

My reflection was a smear of red and black, shimmering and morphing in the mirror, it shivered like it was a hologram that I could pass my hand right though. I wasn’t so sure if any of what I was seeing was real anymore. I blinked and my pupils dilated down to slits, I saw my own mouth twist into a huge toothy grin, filled with sharp teeth that did not resemble my own. I shrieked, touching my own face 

  
  


I had no fucking idea what was happening to me and I was terrified.

\---

**_Nov 6th_ ** **_  
  
_**

Tonight was my next show. 

I would forget everything about the woman in the club.

I would scream and I would rap and I would forget. Like I always forget.

But I could not. The smell of her blood still swam around in my head, a mist of intoxicating perfume. I drooled thinking about it, quickly wiping at my face to hide the evidence of this.

The roommates seemed even more alien to me than usual. Both Randol and Armando avoided even looking at me, as if they thought I would try and rip nails across their faces. Which, truthfully, wouldn’t have been beyond the realm of possibility.

I didn’t even know myself anymore. I couldn’t self soothe with the drugs I always knew numbed the ache in me, this burning felt similar to withdrawals but it had nothing to do with any substance I tried to cope with before. 

I tried so many things, things I either had never tried before, or thought wouldn’t work and nearly everything purged from my body in some odd fashion or even more strangely, didn’t seem to affect me at all. I could drink and smoke and snort but everything just passed right through or seemed to dissolve like a vapor once inside my vessel.

I tossed and turned at night, itching at my skin at the burning sensation that felt so similar to the lust for needles. I couldn’t satisfy it, no matter what I did I kept thinking back on the girl in the club. The taste of blood.

I knew my show was tonight and I absolutely had to make it. There were bills to pay. Not to mention I needed _something_ normal happening right now.

Randol looked up to me as I walked past him and he gasped a little. I ignored him, but when Zinny gave me a funny look I knew something was up.

“Uh...what?” I croaked out through my barely used throat, reaching for water and food.

Zinny pointed to my head.

“Love your new hair color, man, that really fits the Ghoste persona.”

I glared scrutinizing at him, with a quizzical “What do you mean?” Starting to form on my lips but before I could, I turned to the mirror above the sink and saw what he was talking about.

My hair had turned a brilliant silver shade, like that of gauzy spiderweb, it shimmered with undertones of white and blue. It was quite cool really, the only problem is I most certainly did _not_ dye it.

“Fuck.” I whispered and Zinny just laughed at me strangely. “Not the color you wanted?” I could tell he desperately was trying to get through to me, to make some sort of friendly connection. I had been so calcified inside my own self like a gargoyle. Who would blame me though after the events that occurred?

I wished I could talk to him but knew logically that anything I explained about the night of Halloween or the club scene would sound absolutely insane.

So I stayed made of stone.

  
  
  


I went to the venue, and I let go of everything I knew to be my recently outlandish reality.  
Because when I was onstage all I had to know was that I was in my own world.

The people around me screamed and yelled, throwing their head in unison to my own.

I smiled at them in glee, so happy to actually feel somewhat of my normal self, my usual power.

I was so entangled into the feeling I didn't see it coming. 

Some large guy had pushed his way up onto the stage at some point and was barreling towards me, he knocked me to the ground all of a sudden, easily overpowering me with his body mass and clocked me right in the face. 

I landed hard onto the wooden stage floor, the sound of the mic squealing and crowd roaring drilled into my ears.

I lost breath for a moment, like I had the night at Devil’s Gate and tasted blood against my tongue.

I fought the urge to surrender in the same way to that monster, but instead I felt something switch on inside me, maybe from the soaking up of energy from the crowd, or maybe the self confidence of being back on stage, but something somehow gave me a sudden jolt of will to fight, it ripped through me like a white bolt of lightning.

I managed to catapult the huge guy off me and rise from the stage in one swift moment.

Security was looking bewildered, they had been running over to me, but had froze to look at me and then to the man who had been thrown halfway across the stage like they weren’t sure who really needed the help all of a sudden.

I didn’t see the guy’s face clearly, but what I could see was the look of terror that flashed through his eyes quickly.

It was all red again for me, I felt a rising pound in my head and veins. I growled at him, charging full force. To my utter surprise I actually knocked him to the ground with ease, holding him pinned down with just my own weight.

_Was I really that strong suddenly?_

It all seemed odd, but all I cared for in the moment was teaching this guy a lesson.

I pressed my hand firm against his chest, felt his beating heart like a scared little animal under my palm and hissed in his ear.

“Don’t you _ever_ fucking touch me. Got it?”

I felt a strong urge to bite him, to sink my blunt teeth into his neck, or to rake my nails across his chest, but I refrained from the crazy ideas.

I could feel his cooling sweat, smelled the acrid tongue of someone who smoked and drank heavily, tasted the aroma of his laundry detergent being horribly masked with body odor wafting off his clothing.

“And fucking shower more, Jesus Christ.”

I let off him, rising to say into the mic loudly, “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE.” To which the entire crowd cheered along wildly. Some people began throwing bottles and other items to him, which I just watched with sadistic amusement. I could see the man shaking, struggling to rise as the security were trying to calm the crowd and get him out of the venue.

I was vaguely aware of how the people around me started pulsing, like I could feel and hear their own organs and body fluids moving around inside of them. I tried to ignore it, but it made me thirsty. I thought my nails seemed suddenly very long and very sharp. I tried to ignore that too.

  
  


The show ended, and people left, I felt starving and aching just like before it had began. I was still seeing red, still felt the burning electricity left over from the fight with the burly man. I could smell his stench still. Infact, as I left the venue and turned, I realized that he was down the road a bit from the venue, smoking a cigarette and looking nervous.

I watched him as he snubbed the smoke out on the curb and turned to walk down a side street.

I pulled up the hood of my trench coat and tailed him.

I walked behind, far enough away that he couldn't tell I was following him.

  
  
  


He walked down another side street, one that was quiet and desolate, stinking of fried food and trash.

The man whipped around suddenly, the same look of terror in his eyes from earlier as he recognized who I was.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean it!” He yelped, hands coming up to shield his face in a signal of defeat. “I’m sorry!”

I studied him for a moment, realizing within an instant that he had a weakened left knee, how I knew, I wasn’t sure. 

I laughed at him. “Yeah, I bet you are, fucking asshole.”

He shook in the same fashion he had earlier, pressing his back against the chain link fence, trying to seem small and less threatening.

I crept along the side of the gate still, slowly but deliberately, watching as the man turned and began to run away from me, looking back in desperation to shout, “Please, leave me alone!” He tried miserably to run, only tripping over some strewn about trash spilling from a dumpster.

I laughed again, sounding more unlike myself in each passing moment. 

“What’s wrong? Why are you scared, do you think I may hurt you?”

The man just struggled to rise, falling again pathetically. “I didn’t mean to!” He attempted and I growled to him, suddenly taking a step forward to hover above him as he was trapped in the trash mound. 

“Oh really? So you think it’s funny to just fucking attack somebody?”

I leered down in front of his face, once again tasting the fear and sweat off his body. “You think it’s fucking funny to be a piece of shit?” I felt my anger boiling and tearing through me, I clenched my fists so tightly I felt that my hands were bleeding against my sharpened nails, I tried to steady my breath as it came in gasps. I was _so_ hungry.

The man tried to rise but my hand shot out instinctively, nails gouging into his knee that was already weakened. He howled in pain.

I could feel myself panting, salivating again like I had been in the club, shaking throughout my entire body. But it was not shaking from fear, it felt like I had a God inside of me, a tremendous power that was roaring and fighting to come out. I gasped in breaths, trying to speak through the tremors.

“You’re-you’re a pretty dumb shit if you think you can just get away with doing something like that…”

I twisted my nails inside of his flesh, he groaned, turning back to look at me, eyes wide and blood shot. I watched the red beginning to pour from the wound beneath my nails. My heart thrummed with excitement and I licked my lips slowly.

“I’ll teach you...you won’t make the same mistake...again.” I was garbling through the saliva that began dripping from my lips, I felt myself keel over in a sudden convulsion, shuddering violently. A searing pain shot through me, like my entire body exploded out of my own skin. It hurt so horribly I thought I may lose consciousness, swaying there for a moment.

Everything went black, then red, then black again, until I looked back up to the man beneath me and all I saw was a tiny shivering insect outlined in hues of red and blue and pink.

“M-monster.” He whispered, tears running down his face as he trembled up at me, eyes even wider than before, he looked absolutely horrified by me. 

“ _Monster-monster-_!” The man tried screaming, raising his voice, and waving his arms, looking around wildly but I stepped on his throat, cutting off his voice.

I removed the fingers driven into his knee and tangled them in his hair, pulling his face up to me.

I could feel his heart, pulsing and beating like a bass in a song, saw each tiny droplet of sweat that perspired from his pores like little rain drops. His smell reminded me of the woman in the club, rich and intoxicating, not nearly as sweet but driving me just as mad with desire.

_Desire for what?_

I couldn’t ask myself the question at the time all I knew is that every fiber of my body was shrieking for me to destroy this person.

My teeth sunk into his neck and pulled hard on whatever I grabbed in my maw. I felt the warm rush of blood and flesh, dousing my face and sliding down my throat. 

It was delicious, warm, sweet, earthy, sticky, everything I had ever possibly wanted before. I was maddened with lust and desire.

I heard him screaming, but ignored it by scouring a large gash into his stomach, and through his clothing, bright red intestines spilled, like slimy snakes, steaming and hot against the concrete with a wet flop. 

I watched my sharp nails tearing through pink skin into sinewy flesh, leaving ribbons of red in the wake. My teeth tore and gnashed at every part of him I could, ripping and pulling and eating. I couldn’t get enough.

Everything was red, then black again.

And I closed my eyes to sleep.

  
  
  


I woke up freezing cold. Shivering, feeling disoriented, like my eyelids were glued shut together. I tried to stretch, but my body stung like it was on ice.

I groaned, blinking away the blurry blank spaces of my brain.

_Where the fuck was I?_

It was night time. I heard cars. Saw twinkling lights up above me through some canfir trees. I smelled the cold air, the stink of gasoline. Rising from my curled position, I looked around and tried to make out what was happening.

I was in a park, that much I could tell, and it must have been the middle of the night. I shivered and suddenly realized I was totally nude besides some shreds of black fabric hanging tattered on my shoulders and hips.

“Fuck, _great_.” I whispered. I was nearly used to all this weird shit happening to me, but this by far had to have been the weirdest.

I rose shakily from my slumber and looked around for anything I could use to cover myself with. I walked a little ways behind a bush, careful to not walk too far out into the street to be seen.

I found a tarp, rather poor fashion choice to wrap around my waist, but I saw no other option.

I had dried blood on me, which I attempted to rub off as best I could. This wasn’t the first time I was walking home with someone’s insides on me.

I tried not to think back on what had happened to me.

The crinkle of the tarp was rather annoying as I made my way back home. It took me a while to understand where I was exactly, a park in downtown LA, Griffith park. Thankfully a bus driver seemed to pity me, letting me step onto the bus and go as far as he could possibly take me. I thanked him with a jerky nod and tumbled out of the open doors.

  
  
  


I wanted to be upset. 

Distraught. Confused. But even though I was horribly unsettled by the disjointed violent memories of the evening, I had this overall feeling of absolute bliss and contentment. I felt heavy, like I actually had a body again, and the buzzing burning electricity in me had ceased.

I felt full and sleepy for the first time in weeks, like a bear that had gorged itself on honey to hibernate for the winter. I was ready to sleep finally, and so I shed the tarp, and briefly washed the blood off of me before slipping into a deep weighty slumber.

  
  


—-

**_Nov 7th_ **

The hot shower served me well to wash away the remaining caked blood. It was everywhere. My hair, in my teeth still, under my nails. But it didn’t make me forget.

I tried not to think too hard on it, allowing myself the splendor of how calm and vibrational I currently felt. The feeling was similar to drugs, although this felt much more grounded and visceral, like it wasn’t coming from an outer source, this sensation was inner, it was deep.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it all, since I was pretty sure I had just hurt some person the other night, and in a very violent fashion, I tried not to question it.

Zinny’s dog growled at me when I went into the backyard to smoke. His hackles on his grey back raised and he hung his head low and warily.

I clicked my tongue at him.

“What’s the matter boy? Can _you_ tell I’ve changed?” I crouched down, hand out to try and offer a peaceful gesture.

He just glared at me unsure what to make of my presence and I humphed. 

“Yeah...I don’t really think I’d trust myself either.”

\---

**_Nov 8th_ **

I heard voices in the kitchen.

“Eric? Nahhh he is a really reserved and moral guy, he’s had his hard stuff in life but never been involved in anything serious. He wouldn’t have done something like this…Yeah...yeah, okay, I will, thanks officer.”

The screen door snaps shut like a gunshot and I inched towards Zinny.

“Who was that?” I ask.

He jumps, spinning around.

“Oh shit, you scared me Eric.”

He rubs his head, lines creasing his eyes as he says, “Cops, apparently they thought you had something to do with this brutal murder that happened night before last.” He exhales through his nose, I can smell the coffee with sugar he drank just earlier.

“It happened just a couple spots down from your venue you last played, you know anything about that?”

There was a moment, a tiny instantaneous moment in Zinny’s eyes where he seemed to not trust me. My heart fluttered hesitantly. I noticed some dried blood still under my claw, I scratched at it.

“Shit, no... I don’t. Sounds horrible though. What happened?” I sounded convincing enough, or so I thought.

Zinny relaxed only slightly, shifting his gaze away from me.

“This man was all torn up, I mean like... _torn up_ dude. There are photos online, but they showed me some at the door just now. Fucking insane. Limbs and carnage everywhere. And I guess pieces of him are, like missing as if the person who did it _took_ them.” He shudders, staring into an empty spot in the kitchen. “Wonder what that person wanted with them?”

I shrugged as I got some bacon out to fry up. “Dunno man, maybe someone is doing some dark magic shit.” 

Zinny laughs at this. “You would know, Eric.”

I can feel Zinny staring at the back of my head for a prolonged moment as I watch the bacon fat sizzle and crisp against the pan. 

I think of the man’s flesh between my teeth.

I hope Zinny leaves soon. There is enough silence to where I think maybe he had, but I hear a very small, “Since when do you eat meat…?” As he walks out of the kitchen door.

I didn’t respond.

\---

**_Nov 10th_ **

I avoided the room mates as much as I could, opting to go on walks around the surrounding neighborhood. I loved the parks, the first time I walked through the local one I had a strong urge to remove my shoes, and so I did. It felt right. The calmness I was experiencing was unlike anything I really knew.

It was like the whole world was slowing itself down for me.

I watched bugs and birds for hours. Aware so strongly of the fact that the air smelled like meat grilling from miles away. I’d hear a small sound and the sound would mesmerize me for a moment while I deciphered where it was sourced.

Even the dirt I was walking on felt and smelled different. Everything was colorful, fresh, alive, my own pulse seemed to thrum with everything around me.

What concerned me though was the fact I felt no remorse. 

The feeling that was brought on from killing that man...if that is what I did, it brought about such a deep satisfaction. I didn’t think that was a very good sign.

I was relieved to be free from the hunger.

That is, until it returned.

—-

**_Nov 18th_ **

I fought everything in my body to not lash out at someone. I thought of the tearing of flesh, the smell of someone’s guts, the taste of fear.

I hated myself for it.

I started jacking off more, trying to satisfy myself, opting to hurt my own body a little in the process, thinking maybe if I acted out some self inflicted BDSM that would help quell the desires. But it did nothing if not continue the hyper fixation.

I couldn’t watch horror movies anymore without feeling my stomach pang at the side of blood and gore. I felt dizzy with nausea, even though I ate a lot, I felt empty once again.

Zinny definitely was suspecting something was wrong, although I was glad he didn’t seem to bother me much.

I went on so many walks, if I wasn’t at home in my room, or eating then I was outside, at Eaton Canyon, or any of the local Pasadena foothills. I would write dark words and lyrics in my journals, trying to get all this shit _out_ of me.

One night I woke from a dream I couldn’t recall and fled out of the house quickly, I needed to be in the foothills again.

  
  
  


My heart was pounding in my head, and I almost slipped on a snagged root on the pathway up to the forest, but I caught my balance and with bare hands and feet, grappled my way up the hill.

My head spun when i finally reached the top, up near a look out point where you could see the entire city, spilling out into a huge puddle of artificial lights that shimmered like stars.

I could tell the moon was going to be full soon by looking at her, swollen and blue in the sky.

I blinked and could breathe better, settling down to watch the vantage point from atop a cool rock.

I don’t know how long I crouched there, trying to decide what to do with myself, but suddenly I smelt something nearby.

I don’t know how I knew it was there, but I could _smell_ a rabbit in the bushes.

It’s tiny feet thumped against the softened dirt, my head turned to crane towards where I felt it’s heartbeat and I watched patiently in the dark.

My eyes seemed to pick up so much light in the nighttime, often I felt it easier to look around in the dark than with human made light aiding me.

I heard a snap of a twig and stiffened, everything in my body switching to the same mode of when I stalked the man from my show.

I felt my stomach growl painfully and the rabbit shot from the bush just then.

I didn’t even think twice as I let myself bolt after it, so fast I wasn’t even sure how I managed it. 

Maybe I was running on all fours? I couldn’t have remembered. Things were just dark, following a trail of colors and smells through the black California wild.

My hands felt soft fur underneath them and I clamped down hard, pinning the small body of the rabbit down against the dirt. It squealed, terrified little round eyes looking up to me in a silent plea. It reminded me of the man, and I wanted to stop. 

I never wanted to hurt an animal. I never wanted to hurt anyone.

But I sank teeth into its throat, hot cherry blood gushing into my salivating mouth with utter satisfaction, like an orgasm. I groaned, feeling a bit of that lust quell itself gently inside of me. 

I ate the rabbit raw. Right there beside some bushes, gnawed on it’s bones and chewed through it’s gentle fur, Licking my face and hands clean after, like some fucking cat.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

I said this out loud to the night.

Looking down at the carcass, now a mess of fur and bone, I did something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time.

I cried.

  
  


—-

**_Nov 28th_ **

Downtown Pasadena was quaint, rowed with palm trees and strung up with lights that turned on during night time. At Christmas the whole street displayed lights swirling up around the palm trees, and it was pretty cute, if you like that sort of thing.

The shopping malls were decent, like anywhere you would go, but Pasadena had more local spots that I enjoyed.

One particular shop was called Alexandria ii, after the famous Egyptian library, a semi bookstore, filled with crystals and music cds, and other arcanic like items.

It had been ages since I had been here, and I figured it was a better time now than ever to enter again.

The bell rang as I stepped through the swinging glass door, my nostrils instantly filled with the perfumes of sage and patchouli. I felt my shoulders relax, the hairs on the back of my neck flatten.

I walked to the counter, eyeing the various crystals, and oddities on sale.

Suddenly a person popped up from behind the counter, startling me.

“Oh! My, how long has it been now!” I looked at the face of an older woman with dark thick hair and eyebrows.

She seemed familiar, and I remembered why. She owned the store, she was from Russia, I remembered telling her that it was a dream of mine to play music there one day.

“Anna, it has been a while…”

She smiled to me and said in her thick accent,

“Well now it has, how is your friend doing? The one with the pink hairs?” I frowned, looking down for a moment as I explained that Gus had passed away a year ago.

Anna frowns sadly, but nods her head.

“You have changed a lot…I nearly didn’t recognize you.”

I laughed a little. “You don’t even know.”

“What are you searching for?” She asks.

I gaze at her, unsure what she truly meant by that question.

“I don’t know...an answer.”

She eyes me up and down briefly then exclaims, “I have something for you!” And disappears down one of the aisles of books.

I watch her leave, remembering back on the first few times I drug Gus here.

He was always amused by the strange stuff I was interested in, he would flip through different books on religion and philosophy and say how cool and complicated it all seemed.

It didn’t interest him as much as it did me, but he still found the artistic beauty in most things.

Anna came whirling around the corner again, and slid a book across the checkin counter to me.

“Here, this will help you.”

I blinked down to the book, a large black leather jacket with silvery words on the front printed “ _The_ _Gift_ ”

It looks beautiful and I pick it up, thumbing through to stop on an illustrated page of a wolf.

My heart beats, and I swallow thickly, glancing through the words to read “Lycanthropy” and “animal lust”.

I shook my head, “Oh Anna, thank you, but I don’t think I—“

She cuts me off, shaking her own thick haired head and said, “Please, I insist.” She gives me a look that reminds me all too much of my mother and I sigh, smiling a thank you.

I turn to leave, waving to her before I do, and she says, “Tell your friend when you see him again that he is a warmth in the world!” I nod, not sure if she understands I won’t be seeing him anytime soon, but something told me she meant what she said.

—-

**_Dec 1st_ **

It seemed ironic that the first day of December would be so warm.

Zinny and the guys didn’t seem to think it was all that hot, but I was sweating more than I normally did. Maybe a result of the _‘thing’_ I was dealing with.

I knew the full moon was tonight, and I hoped to find answers.

The book proved to be helpful if not also terribly depressing.

It spoke of ancient Greece and Russia, of old folklore telling of children who had been abused by people in childhood who then became ‘beasts’ in order to enact revenge.

The book mentioned the myth of _King Lycaon_ , who was a fellow who reigned ancient Peloponnese ( _Southern Greece_ ) and was said to be mad, eating live animals and people under the full moons, hence the word _Lycanthropy_ had been created from.

I read more, trying to understand, trying to find a cure or a reversal of some sort.

I read of witches, and self indoctrinated werewolves. 

Why anyone would _want_ to become one, I couldn’t fathom.

I read about shapeshifting and the moon phases. I read about infections, being attacked by beasts who scratch or bite another and pass along this _‘Gift’_.

I paused on a graphic drawing of a half human, half wolf tearing a smaller human in half.

I read on how werewolves go into ‘heat’ cycles around the full moon, how they become more violent than usual, more sexually driven.

 _Great_ . I thought. Definitely need _that_ happening.

Then I threw the book down with a heavy _thump_ and rubbed my eyes hard.

This wasn’t helping. I didn’t want to believe any of this. My father’s words rung in my ears.

_Grow up. Stop believing in magic crap._

  
  


I refused to believe this, this wasn’t possible. Werewolves were not real. 

I was _not_ a lycanthrope.

The full moon tonight would come and go like always. It would just be another night.

I lit some incense and laid in bed to watch stars through my window, trying to take full breaths.

My knee bounced like I was on adder all.

Oh how I wished I was. 

I would give anything to just be an addict again. And not _this_ whatever _this_ was.

How long had it been, since the incident with the man? I wasn’t sure.

It seemed like forever ago and my body seemed to agree.

It utterly screamed at me to tear something apart.

I thought of the rabbit a few nights ago, maybe I could just opt for that, something, _anything_ that would help this hunger. But then I thought of Zinny’s dog and my heart hurt. I wouldn’t want to hurt him, or any animal.

My knuckles were turning white from clenching them so hard.

A gleam of metal attracted my eye to what was a small razor sitting beside my music equipment, used for drug cutting. I thought of doing horrible things with that razor.

I thought of rivers of blood, cutting open a person’s throat, devouring their organs like they were chocolate cake.

I screamed into my blanket, biting at the fabric so hard I tore away a long piece of fiber, spitting it out with a coating of saliva.

I wished it would all stop.

The feeling was horribly like my previous desire for drugs, execpt my desire to use didn’t include a desire to _murder_.

As the night crept on things began to swirl in red patterns around my room, that familiar throb returning to my head.

I glanced out to the moon and saw her bright and full in the sky, the sight making the buzzing throb so loud I had to quickly glance away and shut my eyes it made me dizzy.

Everything seemed so loud all of a sudden, the cars outside, the dogs down the street, the guys in the other room listening to music or clicking keyboard keys.

I clamped my hands over my ears and rolled back and forth.

My skin itched and prickled, like little wood slivers were pointing into my skin all over my back and arms.

“Stop stop stop.” I chanted.

  
  
  


My body ached, I thought I heard my bones crunching and my blood churning under my skin. Pain tore through me like I had experienced the night I attacked the man.

_This can’t happen, not again._

Vision swimming, I rose shakily from my room.

  
  
  


Locking the bathroom behind me, I stumbled in front of the mirror and exhaled with labored breath. I looked at my reflection, silver white hair just covering the two sunken, wild blue eyes of my face, my lips twitched as I observed my own image, drool dribbling down my chin messily, my teeth looking so sharp. I bit my own lip and drew blood. 

My nails were sharp too and so long, no matter how many times over the past weeks I tried to cut them away, they refused to stay blunt.

“Eric!” A loud bang made me start.

It was Randol, shaking the door hard. “Yo, I gotta go man.”

I didn’t respond, just breathed heavily at my reflection, watching how my muscles tensed and pulsed, writhed almost like snakes were underneath them. I felt faint, my skin itched.

“Yo Eric!! You fucking in there?!” Randol yelled, accompanied with more banging on the door. I flinched, the image in the mirror melting and stretching like a horror movie before me. Was I dreaming? What was real anymore?

Another pain tore through me.

I wailed loudly, a strangled, “Leave me!” Barely escaping my mouth as I hunched over the toilet to vomit violently all of a sudden.

He must have heard because the sounds outside the door stopped. And I tried to stand back up to wash my face of puke.

But as I shakily reached to turn the water on I shrieked in pain again, arm convulsing down toward my own body. I cradled it, trying with all my might not to scream at the top of my lungs.

Looking up at my reflection again, my face seemed to not be my own. My skin was swollen, stretching, hot and sweaty. I panted in pain and confusion.

“No, no, no, please, _no_.” I pleaded in a slurred speech through teeth that seemed to be growing too big for my own mouth. I heaved, shuddering as I felt my rib age crack open from inside out, expanding like a balloon until I was scared my entire chest would burst.

I felt every single ligament of my spinal cord stretch, thicken and pop into place as my neck and back lengthened.

My ears ached, my eyes stung and I kept them shut tightly.

I felt my knees bend backwards, and rearrange with a sicken crunch.

Gasping, I saw my hands grow larger, nails becoming even sharper before resembling actual claws of an animal. 

My feet did the same, stretching upwards from their usual horizontal position until I was crouching on the front balls of them, sharp nails gripping the bathroom tile floor.

I struggled to stay standing, gasping out breaths through the horrendous pain.

Daring to look at my reflection I yelped in horror.

My eyes were black as nebulas, yellow slits peering out at me from their depths, my nose and jaw had elongated, so had my ears, ending in little points.

Backing away from the mirror I tried to sit down against the back wall, still breathing hard.

But I had to sit forward again soon enough because next I felt a horrible stretching pain at the base of my spine, like someone had hooked something into my lower back and was pulling something out. 

I yelled, hunching over to try and make the sensation stop.

My body was still growing though, and itching and sweating like mad.

_Make it stop, make it all stop._

I thought, no longer able to speak when I tried.

I howled instead, a sad little whine like a hurt dog.

I felt clothes tear themselves off of me, thankfully I was only wearing basketball shorts, which soon turned into shreds of blue fabric on the floor. I felt my body would never stop growing and stretching, stretching more and more until my head nearly bumped the ceiling.

I heaved out breath, finally feeling pain pass, and my bones settled once again.

I looked into the mirror and couldn’t understand what I saw.

But maybe I should have expected it.

I saw a nightmare.

I saw the same huge swamp beast I had seen as a little boy.

With great hulking grey shoulders, pointed ears like horns and blue glowing eyes.

White and gray fur covered the monster, streaking it’s muzzle and head in a silvery color that resembled my own hair.

I blinked and watched this thing blink back at me.

I opened my mouth and it’s huge white striking fangs bared themselves to me.

I growled and the beast growled back in unison.

_I saw me._

  
  


I left out of the bathroom window, rather unceremoniously, as I smashed the glass apart and pulled myself desperately through with furry long fingers.

I may have cut myself on the way out, feeling sharp stings on my haunches as I landed on the grass outside with a _thud_.

But I couldn’t let the house mates see this.

They would be terrified, and most likely try and kill me.

I was scared of myself, maybe more so than they would have been, so I ran away from it, following the call inside my chest to be inhuman.

  
  
  
  


The grass was bitter and cold in my nostrils and under my feet ( _paws_?) as I ran across the yard and hoisted myself up onto the fence post that led into the neighboring houses.

The wood bowed under my weight, cracking slightly, I thought it may break, but I shifted my weight so it was more evenly distributed, hooking claws into the surface.

I made my way up onto the rooftop, taking a moment to catch my breath and look around from the view.

Cars drove by passively, looking like hulking gleaming metal beasts making their way between the jungles of telephone wires and concrete paving.

My eyes adjusted to the bright whites of neon lights, blazing through the pleasant blackness of nighttime. I saw everything and everyone.

The tiniest movement in the night, a moth fluttering by from miles away, bats zooming after to catch them, or a person moving inside of their apartment from a block down.

My vision was superb.

I heard and smelled everything too. Like swirling fumes of smoke wafting up from tiny little pin pricks all over the world, all different flavors and colors. Some smelled sweet, left over candy from Halloween, or sour and earthy, car biodiesel and trash rotting in plastic.

I felt overwhelmed, the entire macrocosm suddenly bombarding me with thousands of different feeds of information. I wanted to hear and taste it all at once. I wanted to kill and eat.

I didn’t know where to go.

I looked up at the sky and my gaze locked onto the beholding of the moon. Now she no longer made my eyes ache and gave me the feeling of vertigo, in fact it felt similar to that of when one stands under the rays of sunshine for the first time in days, basking in the splendor of warmth and love, like a hug from the Gods.

I drank this all in and felt more calm.

I didn’t understand why I was so aware of what was happening.

Shouldn’t I have blacked out? And maybe come back to after the night is over? I would have rather not be aware of eating someone again.

I couldn’t bear to think of it. And yet I ran through the night swiftly from the rooftop, on the hunt for something. Or _someone_.

  
  
  


I heard the child crying from three blocks away.

They were in a small gas station, sign peeling away and faded from neglect in the California sun.

The mother was screaming at the little girl, close to her face, hand gripping her hair as she shakes her roughly.

The small child sobs, shaking and closing her eyes.

“Stop fucking me up!” She yells at the kid. “You’re a waste!”

The woman turns briskly, grabbing a bag of groceries in a free arm and leaving the child as she walks away from her.

I watch the little girl slump down onto the cold pavement, clutching a stiff plush animal and sobbing into her hand.

The image reminded me of instances with my own father, wagging a finger in my face yelling, “ _What a waste_!”

Even though her fear and her tears smelled like sweet perfume to me, I felt my heart pang with empathy. I couldn’t hurt this child, even though I currently was a monster, I tried to hold onto my morals as a person.

I crept up from the bushes, watching the distraught kid from a safe distance.

“Are you coming?” I hear the adult scream, waving a hand backwards towards the little girl.

She didn’t respond, she just cried and rubbed her wet face.

I stepped a bit closer, almost enough to be under the bright light of the gas station lamps.

The child turns suddenly, gasping. We locked eyes, her own blue ones wide and wet with crying. “N-Nice doggy…” She sniffs, wiping her nose and holding out her shaking small hand towards me. 

I made a small sound to her, acknowledging that she was trying to pet me, but I felt my lips curl, ready to tear flesh, so I turned away quickly, back into the shadows and behind a car. I didn’t want to harm her. She did not deserve it.

I could hear the mother call again, more agitatedly and I watched her walking away from the kid still sitting on the ground. “I’m leaving you!” She hollered. “Good luck not getting kidnapped!”

My blood boiled at her comments, and I dug my silver claws into the pavement, bared my teeth in rage. The mother began to walk down the street, away from the gas station, to leave the child alone and I followed beside from the untrimmed bushes.

I watched the way her scantily clad body moved under fabric, not a moment more does she round a corner and I leap at her from the dark, claws tearing into her back, ripping her dress. She screams and I bring her body close to me, clamping jaws around her neck to silence the sounds.

I feel the woman grapple her hands at my muzzle, trying to fight and press me away, but I suffocate her under my teeth until she stills movement.

I think back on the child in the parking lot, with huge blue innocent eyes.

I hoped she would forgive me. I hoped I was doing her a favor.

  
  
  


I retreated into the bushes again, holding my kill in my mouth. I could feel her body twitching and pushing, I crushed her throat more. Then with my jaws still around I ran by a group of people who shrieked as I barreled through the bushes. “What the fuck was that?!” I heard one of them yell.

  
  
  


The graveyard was quiet and peaceful, and a perfect place to be secluded in my horrible act. I stopped behind a large stone obelisk, setting the woman’s body down on the ground. I caught my breath, and watched my kill’s blood pool out underneath her.

The body twitches, her eyes shift over to me, huge and horrified. She gurgles. She was still alive.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to be angry at her, to tell her that she didn’t deserve the child she had, she didn’t deserve life. But I couldn’t speak, only growl and snarl and fling saliva onto her.

She moans, attempting to rise up and move away from me but I pounce on her chest, crushing her ribs. The air puffs out of her lungs with a hiss.

I lick my long tongue up her face, tasting the sweat and blood, reveling in the sweet euphoria of finally giving into temptation.

I let myself enjoy the smell of her fear, feeling my veins pulse with arousal and excitement.

I tear her dress from her body with my claws, watching her writhe under my paws. I press nails into her soft fleshy stomach, seeing red bloom under the sharp pin pricks.

Before I even realize what I am doing, I feel myself harden against her, and thrust, entering into her body, jaws closing around her neck again, tasting her fresh blood. 

I growl and tear at her skin, the warmth of blood against my face and neck only further the excitement of sex.

I heard her breath laboring more, struggling to bring air into her collapsing lungs. She twitches under me and around me, unable to move against my assault any longer.

This was all a blur, something I rather would have not been at all conscious of.

Finally I finish with her, feeling spent and satisfied in more carnal ways than just one. I didn’t even have space in this form for human remorse at the moment, it all felt so good, to give into such lust.

The woman’s body is nothing but a mass of red and white pulp, grume, entrails and innards all a mash around what once was a human frame. Something in me feels odd, looking at what used to be a person only an hour or so ago. I try to bury the mess of blood and gore under some graveyard dirt, thankful that I had a better place to conceal the remains as opposed to the last times.

  
  
  
  


As I pant and lick blood off my claws and mouth, I think of the small girl in the parking lot with her plush toy. Her large blue eyes.

I find my way back to the same place she had been left, and watch from the seclusion of darkness.

She is crying still, walking around the emptied lot looking lost.

“Mom! Mommy!” The girl continued to cry out in vain. I felt my own pain bubble up just then.

_What have I done?_ I thought.

I wanted to run from it all, to return home and cower in shame inside of my attic room, but I continue to watch.

She wanders around, toy in hand, letting out forlorn wails like my own howls.

From my vantage point I could see a person who worked at the gas station look in her direction.

_Come on, help her._

I plead silently to the Gods.

And the young man walks over, as if hearing such a plea, he leaned down. I can hear him asking what was wrong, her responding with wobbled explanations of losing her mom.

The guy thankfully called someone for her a moment later, who I wasn’t sure, but by that time I couldn’t bear to see anymore, feeling my strength starting to fade. 

I had to make it back home before I possibly blacked out again.

I was just glad she wasn’t alone.

Turning, I pelt through the adumbral foliage alongside the streets. I am almost to my street, turning down a bright lit parkway when suddenly I heard people shouting.

“Shoot it! Fucking shoot it!”

I twist back not a moment too late to witness two forms positioned behind me, one fires a gun and I just barely barrel out of the way, the bullet grazing at my shoulder.

Yelping, I turn and run down the other direction, the two people on my tail still.

I can hear them shouting behind me, my own heart pumping in my ears as I ran as fast as I could. The fullness of the person I had just eaten was slowing me down rapidly.

I attempt to leap up onto a gate, only to stumble and fall backward.

The humans shout, something about being ‘bigger than a goddamn bear.’ And I hear another shot go off.

I’m reeling with animal instinct, trying to fight my way away from them, to just go back home where I knew I was safe.

I glance back to see the two people again, leering with horrified contorted faces over me.

They looked at me like I was a circus animal to poke sticks at.

I tried to yell at them, wanting to say, “Get back!” but it came out as a chest rattling roar.

The two men froze at that, I smelt the waft of fear rush off of them suddenly.

I took this as my chance to run, hearing one of them say a thing or two about calling Animal Control as I dove down into the sewer bank.

  
  
  


As I clawed my way up over the back fence of Zinny’s place finally I was gasping for breath. I tumbled down into the yard with a rather ungraceful _thunk_. As I started to rise and make my way to the door I suddenly heard, “Eric!”

I froze, looking over to see Zinny in the doorway with his dog.

It took me a moment to realize that I must be human again, otherwise he wouldn’t have recognized me and called me by name. If only that helped the situation.

“Eric!” He calls again, even more seriously.

I started to walk over to him, slowly, feeling like an animal caught in the chicken coop with feathers in its mouth.

“Eric—Where the hell were you? I don’t know what the _fuck_ has been going on with you lately, but it needs to stop okay?”

I watch his eyes narrowed to slits, the face of a man who has seen trouble at his door and fought it off before.

I take a breath, watch how Fenrir growls to me, I can smell the animalistic fear he exudes.

“I don’t know what this—this-“ he looks my body up and down, stuttering, “ _this_ is that you have been up to, breaking shit, mood swings, you’ve been acting totally not yourself for a while now. Just talk to me for fuck’s sake Eric! I mean _Jesus_ you’re naked and fucking covered in blood right now!!!”

I watched his pupils dilate in the moonlight, I knew this man wasn’t afraid to split someone’s head open.

He was holding a bat in his hands, one that was kept by the backdoor in case of an emergency. Fenrir growled behind his legs.

And I stood there naked, aware of the rapidly chilling blood covering my body still. I cautiously walked a little closer to him, trying to seem non threatening, trying to come across as being normal, as being _human._

“I’ve been trying to fucking call you—“ Zinny says

“I lost my phone a few weeks back—“ I tried to say, but he cut me off with,

“Yeah, right after that murder happened, _right near your last venue_.” He emphasized this last part with spitting words, I watched the saliva fling from his mouth and land on the grass like dew drops.

“You know you broke my fucking window? And you’ve been taking my alcohol and pills, I can tell. Now I don’t know if this is drugs, freaky magic shit you’re doing or some mental bullshit you are going through, but this _has to_ stop or you won’t be welcome here anymore.”

I just wanted to walk past him right then, to go up into my room and curl up so I could sleep, but I couldn’t possibly push past him without being allowed entry. The tension was intense in the vicinity of the backyard. I was still trying to calm myself from being chased by the men in the street.

“And guess what Eric?” I watched him smack the bat down against his hand. “You didn’t _lose_ your phone, it was found at that _fucking_ crime scene.”

I shake slightly, feeling more trapped and panicked by the moment.

_Is this what a stray dog feels like when he’s cornered by the dog catcher and is tethered into the back of a van?_

_Or a coyote, being gunned down for trying to steal a scrap of meat from the campside leftovers?_

I looked at Fenrir again, the glint in his eyes off the streetlights, and almost felt more heartbroken that _he_ no longer trusted me.

_Out of anyone, wouldn’t an animal have understood me?_

“YOU DON’T FUCKING UNDERSTAND.” 

This tears out of my chest, still sore from shifting into a beast. I likely would have launched myself at Zinny and tore nails down his face if it wasn’t for the fact my full belly from the recent kill kept me feeling grounded enough to refrain from doing so.

“THEN MAKE ME.” 

Zinny hollered back with just as much passion. 

We made eye contact, both breathing hard and trembling slightly. Me from the emotion and exhaustion, him I could only guess from anxiety and cold.

I was reminded of the little girl, who’s eyes also had the twinge of fear and untrust.

I blinked.

“Zinny.” I said very quietly, trying to will my shoulders to soften so I no longer was positioned like I was ready to strike in defense.

“ _Please_. Trust me”

He humphs and leans back against the door for a moment, seeming to soften his own stance.

“Same answer as before, Eric. Make me.”

I growled a small amount in my throat, frustrated and I could see the dog raise his own hackles.

“Just--” I inhaled bitter cold night.

“Just give me time to figure this all out. I will talk to you. I promise Zin.” I watch his eyes shimmer. “I promise.” I repeat with as much possible humility, hoping and wishing he would somehow understand.

He was measuring me, eyes up and down on my horribly exposed form. 

I felt like I was on some examining table, strapped down by force of leather straps to struggle against the cool metal and harsh lights.

Then Zinny stepped aside from the door, without another word, casting his gaze aside from me, breaking the glare we had held. I felt the tension drop between us for the meantime and took that as a sign that I was allowed to walk through.

So I did, glancing to his face met with an unreadable expression, and to Fenrir who just regarded me suspiciously still.

It was harder to sleep, even though I was full again, I feared what would happen if I didn’t get a handle on all of this soon.

I was on edge from being chased in the streets and shot at, paranoid that Zinny would come into my room at any time and just point blank shoot me in the skull like they had tried.

_Would that even kill me?_

I wondered.

There was one thing I knew for certain.

_Don’t corner a wild animal._

—-

**_Dec 15th_ **

I wanted to die again.

Maybe even more than before I had been infected.

I wanted to just do drugs again. 

To only be afflicted by the numbness of sedation, to have the ache of withdrawal. Anything would be better than the weight of shame and isolation I felt.

_How could I possibly continue to live like this? After what I had done? And what I knew I needed to continue doing?_

I read the book some more, took walks, tried to distract myself, comfort myself.

I found information on the book regarding _weaknesses_ for werewolves and _killing_ one.

Under such subcategories I found information on things we all hear about in horror movies and novels, like:

_Silver -_

Turns out silver simply subdues the ill effects of lycanthropy.

It’s properties were cool and connected to the moon, opposing the carnal heated fire of lycanthropic symptoms.

I piled chains around my neck of silver, wore rings.

I knew it wouldn’t cure me, it wouldn’t stave off me turning again, but what it did counteract was the buzzing feelings of chaos.

It was a comfort, and allowed me to not react in instinct as much.

It helped, but it did not change the fact that I was still me.

_What else could I do? What options did I have?_

I knew I would end up shifting again, and that would result in more killing and more consuming.

I thought of buying a one way ticket to Russia, maybe asking the woman who owned the book shop if she had any cheap places I could stay in.

But I couldn’t, logistically, I was bound here by finances and convenience and notoriety.

I pondered on returning to Florida, my hometown, but also knew that was far out of the question. My mother and I didn’t really get along, and that had only amplified after my father had passed.

_So what other choice did I have?_

I kept track of the moon cycles, obsessively being aware. I thought maybe of tying my own self down with chains and ropes inside of my attic room. I tried and that didn’t work.

I read more on other remedies and rituals one could perform to ‘purge’ the curse of lycanthropy. Nothing seemed to do it. I felt so hopeless, finally considering just shooting myself to end the fight inside.

I stopped playing shows, unable to even attempt to be my old performance self. My cash was dwindling and Zinny knew this. The room always went quiet when I walked in, which wasn’t often, I only really left my space for necessity. I could tell the guys I lived with felt uncomfortable around me. The window in the bathroom was still duct taped from when I bust through it, I told Zinny I would pay for it’s repair as soon as I could, which wouldn’t be soon due to my financial situation.

One late night I came across something online:

_Wolfsbane -_

(also known as _Monkshood_ or _Aconitum Napellus_ )

It’s lore spoke of famously curing those who were turned into werewolves.

Naturally this piqued my interest.

Only problem: it was highly toxic to humans.

I knew that this posed great risks, it was very likely that I could overdose and poison myself trying to use this plant. But it was also the first real thing that I had heard working against the werewolf curse.

I called the book store, Alexandria ii from downtown Pasadena and waited while the phone rang.

“Hello?” A man on the other end picked up.

“Oh..” I said, a little surprised that it wasn’t Anna, the shop owner and person who had given me the book. “Oh, I’m sorry, is _Anna_ there?”

The man on the other end sounded busy and distracted. “Nope, sorry, she is back in Russia for a month or two.”

“Shit.” I whispered, the man didn’t seem to hear.

“You need something?” He asked.

“Yeah, I uh, was just wondering where someone could get poisonous plants?”  
  


There was a pause on the other end and for a moment, I feared we had been disconnected but then I heard him sigh and say, “Well, that’s a really dangerous feild to get into, pal, I don’ know what you may be wantin’ with that kinda stuff…” He paused, I figured he may not have an answer for me. “But tell you what, lemme give you a phone number to a lil’ apothecary in the area, okay?”

So I took down the number, and with a thank you, ended my call with him to phone the herb shop.

The call was answered immediately and I was startled by the brisk, “Hello!”

“Hi, um, do you carry Wolfsbane by chance?” I wasn’t even sure what I was asking for exactly.

A pause, then, “Uhhh...Wolfsbane..? Isn’t that like a legend or somethin’?”

I didn’t know how to respond. “Oh, wait, you mean like Aconitum Napellus?”

“Yes, yes.” I replied impatiently.

“Oh yeah man, we do have some dried in, but uh, I can’t ship any poisons...you gotta come into the shop for me to ID you and all that glorious stuff.”

I asked for the address and then requested they held as much as possible for me.

Without a phone I had to use Randol’s cell to call a lift, which he agreed to albeit warily. I wondered if Zinny had turned them both against me too. I gave Randol some cash as a thank you and took the car into Glendale, past Eagle Rock which was a large tan boulder in the shape of an eagle’s head.

The shop was very small, and tucked away into a corner of a rundown street that seemed oddly placed for any sort of business.

I opened it’s large, cracked wooden door and was greeted with thousands of different scents assaulting my nostrils at once.

I coughed and squinted my eyes.

On the inside back wall were rows and rows of different glass jars that inside contained different herbs, powders and whole roots of plants.

Many odd things hung from the ceiling as I walked up to the cashier, I tried to avoid knocking into anything on the floor or hanging from the wooden beams.

“Hello.” I said and the man turned to me, the one I assumed I had spoken to.

“Hey!” He waved, big round green eyes shining. He looked high, on what, I wasn’t sure. Could have been any number of plants in the shop.

He had long ringlets of bleach blonde hair, tucked back into two buns atop his head. His attire was pastel, and he wore multiple pieces of jewelry and crystals around his neck and fingers.

“Are you the wolf guy?”

I paused, a chill sending fear through me, wanting to shift into defense mode. “Um…” 

Then he chuckled, smacking his own hand down on the wooden counter that separated us.

“You’re here for the Monkshood right?” He turned away, walking over to a large jar that was kept away from the rest.

I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

He brought the jar back over. It contained little lifeless purple flowers that resembled lavender to the untrained eye, the jar had multiple handwritten scrawls of skulls and ‘BE CAREFUL’ all over it.

He turned back and eyed me, like he was reading me.

“Hey, I love your tatts.”

I smiled slightly straindly. “Thanks.”

He motions to me and taps on his own face, “Especially these. And your hands.”

I watched the man slip on some thick gloves, then retrieve a metal scoop. “How much you need, friend?”

“As much as you possibly can give me.”

The guy gave me an inquisitorial look and paused. He gets a little plastic weight gauge out from underneath the counter and clicks the power button on.

The jar is popped open and within moments I feel the aroma of the flowers hit my senses and it burns like crazy. I cough again, covering my face and trying to act normally.

He seems to not notice and plops about a gram into the plastic bag. The man seems to be putting things back but I mumble, “More.” Through my hand.

“ _Woah_ bro.” He cocks his head to me and stills before scooping up a decent amount more into the little bag. “I dunno why you’d need so much…” I watch the purple flowers land gently and try to breathe normally.

The baggie was swelling now from girth and I nodded. “That’s good I think.”

I watch him peel the gloves off into the trash and dump the metal scoop into a basin.

“Now I need your ID, please.”

I nod and take my wallet out, realizing the smell wasn’t as strong now that he had sealed the bag up.

His green eyes look to me in concern as he types up on a computer.

“You know...I really hope you aren’t planning something _bad_ here my friend.”

He stops for a minute and looks at me seriously.

I shift my weight on my feet. I wasn’t really wanting sympathy from a stranger.

“I’m just...dealing with something.”

He laughs. “Dealing with a werewolf?” I see he has gems of gold glued on his teeth.

I don’t laugh back and he frowns, awkwardly going back to typing at the computer.

He tells me the total and I slide the cash to him, wanting to get this all over with.

“Hey, man, can I ask what you do?”

“What I do?” I ask, urging him to just finish with the transaction.

“Yeah, like, work.”

I laugh. “Oh, uh, I make music.”

He lights up. “No way! I do too.” And smiles.

“What’s your stage name?”

I tell him my info as he writes on a small business card and slides it to me. “Check out my SoundCloud if you could man! I would love to see you play some time.”

I smile to him, realizing this was one of the most genuine human interactions I’d had in a good while.

“It was nice talking to you.” I tell him truthfully and he nods. “Likewise.” He waves as I walk out, yelling a; “Hopefully I’ll be seeing you play someday!”

It reminded me that I had music to do. If anything, I had to get through this, and if I didn’t I may never be able to do what I love: make music and play shows ever again.

  
  
  
  


As I brewed hot water with the herb, it burned my eyes and nostrils like it had in the shop. I had to leave the room and let it steep while I stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.

I held my breath as I carefully poured the poisonous stuff into a cup, holding it mindfully away from my skin.

 _Would have to throw away all of this equipment after_ , I thought in my mind. I wouldn’t want to accidentally kill Zinny. Randol or Armando wouldn’t have been as bad, though.

Sitting in my room with a cup full of the dark purple sludge, I wretched as I looked down into its contents.

Of the possible outcomes, there were only two:

I was going to die, or I was going to be cured, either way I decided those were pretty good odds.

So I gulped down the thick mixture.

It burned like acidic hot swamp water down my throat.

Almost a second later I involuntarily fell back against my mattress, gasping for air.

My throat was swelling up and I couldn’t breath. It felt like I was inhaling smoke and fire, as if an entire flame was inside of my mouth.

Suddenly my vision was changing as I blinked and I watched my ceiling melt and stretch above me.

None of this was too scary for me, I’d been high out of my mind many times, but it had been so long, and this was _actually a poisonous plant that would kill me._

I saw a face above me, and was slightly aware of my own body convulsing and twitching around across the blankets.

I look up at the face, trying to understand who or what it was.

Streaks of gray cobweb formed hair, blue gems were sudden bright shining eyes beneath them, and I recognized that the face resembled a sort of grotesque interpretation of myself.

The eyes narrowed, and bulged out of the wooden beams, suddenly the ceiling split open and a huge gaping mouth appeared, grinning and drooling thick white slime down onto my body.

The eyes burst out of crystals and underneath were writhing maggots, sliding and wriggling out of the eye sockets.

I couldn’t move as it came closer and closer, cackling in a evil tone. I screamed, thrashing and trying to move away from it.

I was dying, I could feel it inside, tearing at my veins and organs, ripping me up and out.

Burning through my blood and bones, the poison seeped into all parts of my body.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to just accept my own demise, but even inside my own two eyelids I could not escape the nightmares. Red lines like a bloody drawing wobbled around on a black screen, I watched them arch and curve until they formed a figure, a vision of a little girl crying, like the one in the parking lot. Suddenly this girl was torn in two by some unseen enemy and she screamed horribly into my ears.

I saw hundreds of people running towards me, guns pointed at my face. They all chanted in a roar, something I could not understand. My own heart pounded, I turned and tried to run but couldn’t move. It felt like eons I was trapped in this void, trying to flee from the red bloodied people.

Chains wrapped by body like tendrils, crushing so hard that I felt my bones snapping, the sound of that when I shifted into a wolf. I tried to yell out but the chains filled my mouth and cracked against my teeth.

I couldn’t open my eyes back up when I tried to, I had become paralyzed, watching the visions of death paint across my quickly ending world.

My eyes finally opened again and everything was pitch black. 

I was blind. I couldn’t breath or smell or sense anything around me, so unlike what I had become accustomed to as a wolf.

I must have been dead.

I felt nothing except cold and blankness.

Then I awoke laying in bed, as if nothing had happened at all.

I felt okay. Normal even. But when I tried to move my body felt made of lead. It took me forever to sit up and when I rose from the wooden floo I felt a harsh convulsion in my stomach region.

I felt sick to my stomach and so I wobbled down to the bathroom. 

I puked purple and black into the toilet, gripping onto the bowl as I groaned in pain from the spasms in my stomach. I threw up until I feared there would be internal organs coming out of my mouth. And I started to see red, eyes going crossed from heaving so continuously.

Finally I caught my breath and flushed the toilet for what felt like the millionth time.

And as I washed my hands and disposed of the equipment, I noticed the familiar glint in my own reflection.

I still felt the wolf inside of me.

It didn’t work.

  
  


—-

_**Dec 21st** _

Defeat was imminent. The Wolfesbane was the last shot I had and I’d blown it. There was nothing else left for me to do.

I was exhausted from the hallucination trip the poison had taken me on.  
I wasn’t able to eat for a few days, everything hurt my stomach like needles.

Even the desire to kill was diminished because of my body still trying to purge lingering poisons.

That I was grateful for, but I still hadn't cured myself.

I slept for hours throughout the day, nothing but blackness when I rested.

Zinny seemed a little concerned with my sudden shift in introverted energy. It was no longer a feeling of ‘don’t fuck with me’ as much as it was ‘I have no energy to fuck with anyway’. 

I talked even less than I had before, if that was even possible. I would sit in the kitchen and just do nothing but stare. I wasn’t really restless either, I had no reserves to be so. This was the first real high I’d had in a very long time.

Maybe the plant had really worked after all, only just temporarily stunting the feelings of lycanthropy.

I reflected as much I could in this numb state, mind finally blank from electricity.

 _Maybe I would live with this?_ I could learn how to make it work. I would live alone so no one would have to know, and I would only kill the people I felt really deserved it or needed it.

Playing God though, I never thought I would and I hated the idea.

I was mourning the very essence of my life which was music, travel and experiences. I would no longer be able to enjoy any of these earthy human things.

It stung and I felt more withdrawn than ever from the world around me.

There was comfort in the sad though. I always felt estranged, this just made the feeling into an actual malady.

I laid in bed and read books from beside my mattress, words still wobbling on the pages in my tired eyes. I scrawled poetry that didn’t really make sense, but still felt good. I felt _almost_ human again.

  
  
  


For the first night in months, I dreamed.

I was in a forest, emerald pine needles feathering around me like a shower of giant green wings. I looked up into the sky and saw the moon, a bright blue sphere above.

Everything felt peaceful and tranquil. I walked through the woods, feet bare but not cold. I came to a clearing, which looked similar to the river bank at Devil’s Gate. I sat near the water and looked down at my reflection. But I did not see myself. I saw a white wolf with piercing blue eyes. I gasped in shock and jumped back. I still wasn’t used to that.

I then noticed a figure down the bank and decided to approach it. From afar I thought they were a woman, wearing a large sweatshirt and tight jeans, but I realized who it was when they turned their face to me.

“Gus?” I choked on his name, feeling my throat wobble with the threat of tears. 

The dream Peep smiled at me brightly, golden teething shining in the moonlight. “There you are Eric! Been fucking looking for you dude!” He didn’t miss a beat, waving me over to him. I blinked and marveled at his face. He looked just like he had before he died, tattoos littering his pale face, hair split into a two tone down the middle of pink and black. He looked so real, I reached out to touch him, fingers brushing his hoodie.

Gus laughed, elbowing me in the ribs which I could swore I really felt.

“Seriously Eric, you gotta pay attention more!”

He rolls his eyes at me dramatically as he reaches in a pocket to light a cigarette. We walked down the bank together.

“What?” Is all I could ask, perplexed by the intricacy of my dream world.

He squatted down and I sat on the bank next to him, unsure if I was a wolf or man. Gus placed a hand on my shoulder and shook me gently.

“I always told you we would rule the world together one day.”

I shook my head. “But Gus, you’re gone. And I’m a big fucking failure.”

Gus shakes his own head, blowing smoke through his lips and nose.

“Nah nah man, you don’t understand, this is how it was always meant to be. Me looking over you while you become this force to be fuckin’ reckoned with.” He laughs at himself through his own teeth.

I feel tears dribble down my cheeks and I look to him solemnly.

“Gus, you have no idea what I have done. I don’t deserve your support...”

In that moment I really wanted to come clean, to finally tell someone of the people I had hurt, to confess to the literal blood on my hands, but before I could continue talking Gus pulls me in close to his side and says,

“Eric, you could never do me no wrong. You ain’t doing nothin’ bad but being your natural self. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

I cried against his shoulder. It felt wonderful to be crying and being close to my best friend again, it felt like forever I had either.

“Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?” I blinked at him in confusion. “What?” He looks at me expectantly. “Oh, uh...you give a warmth in this world.” And Gus looks into my eyes with a knowingness I couldn’t explain. I didn’t feel I had to elaborate on the statement, he simply exhaled smoke and looked out across the river.

I stayed like that with Gus for a long moment, us staring blankly at the black empty water together.

“He’s waiting for you, man. Go on.” He said beside me.

I turned to look at him, asking, “Who’s waiting?” But Gus just points up the river to another figure I couldn’t make out.

I knew I had to leave him but I didn’t want to. I wanted to bring him with me.

He pulls me into a crushing hug before I have a chance to, and I appreciate that he can’t see me crying again.

“Have fun out there okay?” He says to me, waving and smiles widely again like he always did. “I’ll see you again some day.”

I walk farther until my feet begin to feel bark under them again and suddenly I am in the forest once more.

I see the figure in a clearing ahead.

They wore a long white dress that flowed gently.

I recognized them.

“Are you—?” I thought they were the woman who I had seen on Halloween, but as they turned I realized a different face was there. The face of a dog, jet black with long pointed ears, golden eyes and a symbol I knew as an Ankh.

I recognized them instantly.

“Anubis.” It was a statement and not a question.

He walked towards me silently.

“Hello, my son.” He spoke without moving his mouth. “I have come to bestow upon you my blessings and my gift of strength.”

I scrunch my eyes up at him.

“Please tell me how to fix this,” I started desperately, “how to undo this curse on me--”

He seemed to interrupt me with a laugh, “What naivety to assume this is a curse, to try and disregard what I have given to you because you deem it to be too difficult for your own mortal self to handle...this _is_ a gift.” He seemed to glare into my soul with beaming eyes.

“How can you call this a gift…? This...this fucked up shit about transforming? Tearing people up? How is this something I can be grateful for..?”

Anubis bowed his head. “My son, it will not always be easy to be grateful for what we have, but you must realize by now that this came to you because you asked it to.”

I shook my own head, “What? No, I certainly did _not_ ask for this to happen.”

“Then why else would you have made the choices that led you to this point? Ask and you shall receive. The universe is watching, my son, she is always unfolding around us all.”

I saw a flash of image for a split moment: gigantic wolves running through the woods, all different pelt colors, clawing their way over rocks and roots. Fires blazing after them, people chasing them, raising spears and firing arrows.

I saw the wolves fighting alongside humans and other beasts. Blood coating those multi colored pelts, howls and roars ripping through the vision.

“My children have been here since the dawn of time. For as long as the gods have existed, so have they. They have been hunted and demonized, but you all come from a long ancient line of descent. My children are warriors and shamans. You are blessed, not cursed.”

I stopped a minute to think, then asked, “How do I accept what I am, then?”

Anubis blinked his shining golden orbs of eyes and replied with, “Let go. You do not need to hold onto your old ways of being any longer my son, you are already familiar with ‘do what thou wilt’, so let go and become your true self. Then you will fully understand the gift that you have been given.” I started to try and respond, I had more questions to ask, but he raised a hand out to me, pitch black, against my head until everything burst into flaming golden rays and I sank to the forest floor at Anubis’s feet.

\--

**_Dec 25th_ **

I slowly gained my energy back, and to my displeasure, the desires that came along with it.

Shows were happening again, money was flowing into my life since the dream.

I was glad my fanbase still existed. I didn’t know if they’d abandon me because of the lack of recent shows.

I was almost feeling like my old self again, or rather a _new_ old self. An attempt at combining this new side with the old side.

Silver hair with brown hair, long nails with blunt nails, wolf with man.

I was trying to feel okay with everything. But letting go can be a real bitch.

Zinny drove me to venues lately too and I told him each time how grateful I was.

I knew I had to talk to him, it had been way too long we’d tiptoed around articulation.

Fenrir walked into the kitchen on Christmas night, staring at me from across the room with brown eyes.

“Here boy.” I called softly, crouching down and bowing my head as I stretched my hand out in a sign of peace.

He considered this, hackles raising ever slightly, trotting over to stand a few inches from me.

I felt his tongue dart out against my hand and I smiled.

“It’s okay.” I said, watching his eyes lock with mine. “It’s okay.”

Fenrir wagged his tail and with a tiny bark to me as if to say “You’re alright.”, walked out again. I was hopeful this was a good sign a reconciliation was on the way.

A few minutes later Zinny gets home from work, pausing as he sees me standing in the kitchen corner. I may have startled him, standing in the darkness like some burglar.

I gave him time to get settled, unwrap the scarf from his neck, put his keys down and pour himself a drink.

Then we sat at the kitchen table across from each other, my hands interlocked with one another as I stared into the pattern of the kitchen tile floor.

“Listen, Zinny I’m sorry.” I began, searching the emptiness inside of me for words. “There are just some things I actually _cannot_ explain to you.”

“Oh for fucks sake Eric.” He began with a look of scrutiny, shaking his head.

“No, dude seriously.” I looked him dead in the eyes, and to my surprise felt the smallest amount of tears well up in my own.

He looked back for a breath, seeming to be softened by my own sincerity.

“Please, just give me time to work through all of this. _Please_. I can promise you that things are gonna be okay, that I am okay, and I’m working hard at getting things settled in myself.”

The beer swirls in his cup as he rotates his wrist idly.

The Christmas lights hung outside the awning cast an eerie green light into the dark kitchen.

“Okay.” Is all Zinny says finally, as he rose from the table, he looked at me sideways.

“I wanna trust you, Eric, I know you aren’t a bad guy. You’ve changed man, but I really hope it’s for the best.” Hesitating before he clapped his hand on my shoulder gently.

I smiled at him and responded with, “Actually man, I think it is.”

He walks past my chair, turning to say with a click of his tongue, “Oh, and Merry Christmas.”

I laughed. “You know I don’t believe in that Christian crap.”

And he says something that makes me smile even wider still.  
“Yeah, but it’s still nice to hear from family.” 

\---

**_Dec 31st - Jan 1st_ **

The attic room was especially cold, leaking air through the duct tape window, but I had no reason to be unsettled by this.

Tonight was the full moon, and I had been meditating for prolonged periods of time, preparing and shifting my focus to self awareness. This had become easier.

It would have to become easier if I was going to live like this, in my truth.

I removed all of my silver jewelry, took the clothing off that I currently wore, and was careful to be sure I had enough space.

Breathing deeply into my stomach space I crouched on hands and feet, bowing my back like a position in yoga called catcow.

I felt my body start to shiver and stretch, I knew what was happening and I was prepared this time. I had been practicing.

By now I could nearly shift at will, which was wonderful when I wanted to scale up the side of the foothills.

I was always careful though, not wanting to be caught by anyone, roommates included. There was a certain respect I needed to have for myself. I couldn’t be careless with this power.

The line from Spiderman kept flashing through my mind over the past few days.

_With great power comes great responsibility._

It was cheesy as any 2000s hero movie was, but it held simple truth.

I _did_ have a responsibility, as we all did with everything in our lives. I had always had a responsibility and control over my music and my craft. And the more I thought about this new power in alchemic terms, the easier it became for me.

_Manifest._

_Transmutate._

_Recondition._

These were all things the Kybalion taught. I knew it would take time, but maybe this wasn’t a curse after all.

Isn’t that what I’d always done anyway? 

Like taking the curse of my druggy father and his harsh words and letting it become lyrics in a rap. Or feeling like I was always dealt a ‘bad hand’ in life, so just accepting it and letting it become part of my power. 

_I’m hexed and I’ll never let up, make an elixir out of shit._

I was writing lyrics that came from my heart, even though they were just as chaotic and desperate as always, it was honest. I was excited to perform new stuff I had been working on to the local kids. Hurt can be a good source of inspiration for art, if you let it be.

It was hard choosing who to kill, but in some egotistical way, I loved the fact that I acted as a sort of secret Grim Reaper. I felt unstoppable in so many ways, I knew this feeling of power lust could become all I was yearning for if I wasn’t careful. I didn’t want to kill out of hate, or destruction.

So I reminded myself that that wasn’t what I truly wanted, it wasn’t power, it was simply belonging, being free in a world that tries so hard to rope us all into its sparkling lights, swirling money and trivial drama.

It didn’t really mean much to me, and I never wanted that as a person anyway, it always came back to me simply making a space in the world for me to exist, shadow and all.

It made me almost laugh to think back on how insignificant my suffering now felt before being turned. I hadn’t even known the feeling of solitude when I was just human. I was always the black sheep, that was a part of my entire image of self for my whole life, but now it only amplified in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

The roomates seemed less weirded out by me, and I was glad I was still able to live here in comfort while dealing with my affliction. Randol commented on how he liked all the silver ice I wore more recently. Zinny was happy I finally could pay for the window repair and mentioned nothing of how or why I broke it in the first place. I was glad to feel them slowly trusting me again. I didn’t know how long I had before _something_ was found out, but I wasn’t looking too far in the future, I was trying to live in the now.

The full moon still got to me, no matter how much I was mastering shifting at will, she would always force a transformation to happen as soon as it was nightfall. I could feel her presence building each night, like a moth to a flame, she burned brightly in the back of my mind more and more until I felt with absolute certainty the fullness had reached it‘s peak again, knowing full well that she would plunge me into the drug like fever world of being a wolf. I actually looked forward to the full moon though and let myself sink into submission to her call.

  
  
  


The city lights twinkled like the stars surrounding Andromeda, I was able to pick out the Sirius constellation. I raised my head to the brilliant blue moon, grinning wide. It had to have been nearly midnight, the sky burned black and white with stars. They were so clear to me while in this form, as everything always was.

I spent a long still moment just watching the foothills bulging up and away from the gully of the California valley, arching around like a crown containing twinkling stars of city. I knew it had to have been after midnight by the positions of constellations, shifting the night into the new year to come. Oh and what a year it would be. I had no idea what it had in store for me, there was only one way to find out.

The howl tore through the night, rising from my chest like a boiling kettle of water.

As I saw the constellations again a train of thought shot through my head:

_We did it Gus._

_We ruled the world after all._

I had given up on giving up, I found a reason to be in hopes again.

It was time for me to be what I was: an animal. Not a beast, not a monster, not a criminal, but simply a wild creature who had a stomach to fill.

I was working on it, the whole self acceptance thing. _Fuck if I ever was_.

But at least I was getting the hang of letting go, akin to taking a jump off a cliff to dive into ice cold water, sometimes you have to just hold your breath and trust in the fall.

I knew deep down in my soul that this was all a part of me now.

It was meant to happen all along like the dream had said. I wanted to die without truly leaving, so I ended up getting what I asked for in the form of killing an old concept of myself.

I hoped they would all understand and forgive me, or rather, I knew that the only choice I had was to try and understand and forgive myself.

Flesh and blood, death, pain and pleasure, they all felt the same at the end of the day. Polarities of opposites on the same plane. We do what we must.

With one final piercing howl to the sky, I leapt from the rooftops to land upon the concrete ground, on the hunt through the city night for something to feed the hungry beast inside.

**_Fin_ **

  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  _It’s days like these I am so happy that I didn’t pull the trigger and miss out on this_  
>  ☿️  
> 


End file.
